


Say It with Flowers

by IShipIt32



Series: The Flowers Series [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Creepy Petyr Baelish, Eventual Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, F/M, Minor Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Minor Jon Snow/Ygritte, Past Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-03-24 20:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipIt32/pseuds/IShipIt32
Summary: Her father had promised her someone brave and gentle and strong. She had secretly added one more thing to the list, that he sent her the right flowers.Throughout her life, Sansa could count twelve times when she got flowers, some memories were good, some were bad, and some of them were bittersweet. She thought of the men who had sent them: Ned Stark, Joffrey Baratheon, Petyr Baelish, Ramsay Snow, Harry Hardying, Sandor Clegane... who would have guessed that Sandor Clegane would ever send her flowers?





	1. Red Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear people!
> 
> I was going to write something completely different when this idea popped into my head. It was supposed to be a single chapter thing but then I started writing and things started flowing and then it was too long not to be divided.
> 
> I am pretty sure you all know that I absolutely love Sandor and Sansa together but the first few chapters were needed to build up the story. Bear with me, I promise SanSan chapters are coming and will be longest.

She asked for a sweet sixteen party, and it had been everything she dreamed. Her dress was beautiful; the venue looked like those she saw in magazines, all her friends had been there and had a great time. She had danced and laughed and took pictures and it had been perfect, what was not perfect was the morning after the part. Her feet hurt from wearing heels all night, her head hurt a little from the wine her brothers had stolen and insisted on drinking with her after they got home, and she looked like a mess because she had forgotten to take off her make up. Despite everything, Sansa Stark woke up feeling like an adult; she was sixteen years and one day old. She had already started planning her senior year, and what universities she would apply to, she felt on top of things and was determined to make the sixteenth year of her life, her best year yet.

She went down the stairs wrapped tightly in her flannel robe, walked straight to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. It was Saturday, and the rule in the Stark household was that whoever woke up mom and dad would have to prepare lunch, so she tried to be quiet as a mouse as she went to the living room and turned on the TV. The entire house was submerged in silence and she loved it, she wondered if that would be like living alone, having peace and quiet and the TV all to herself, with three brothers, a cousin, a foster brother, and a sister, peace, quiet and alone time was not something she usually had. 

The first to join her was Arya, and then came little Rickon and Bran. They were all sitting in the living room, the little ones half awake and half asleep, when the doorbell rang. Four pairs of eyes grew wide as Sansa ran to the door before whoever was outside had the nerve of ringing the bell again. Looking through the window, she saw a bouquet of red roses.

For as long as she could remember, her father had sent her mother red roses at least thrice a year: on Valentine’s day, on the anniversary of their first date and their wedding anniversary but those dates were months away. Thanks to Ned Stark, red roses became a symbol of love. Confused, Sansa opened the door just as she saw the delivery guy about to ring again.

“Delivery for Sansa Stark,” the boy said as he presented Sansa with a clipboard, “sign here.”

When she closed the door, there were three little heads peaking at her from the living room couch. 

“Who are those for?”, Arya asked trying to sound uninterested but failing miserably.

“Me,” Sansa replied with a big smile. Sixteen and getting flowers, not just flowers but roses, red roses! She really was a woman now.

She went to the kitchen and found a vase, while she arranged the bouquet in it, Sansa wondered who could have sent her such a special gift. She thought maybe one of the older boys from school, maybe he was a secret admirer who had fallen in love with her from a distance and was too shy to admit it. Maybe he had planned for months how he would declare his love for her with such a special gift. She found the little card tucked in between long stems and picked it up eagerly, dying to know who her secret admirer was. The smile on her face didn’t fall when she saw who the sender was; instead, it grew even bigger. 

_No matter how old you get, you will always be my little girl. Dad_

Quietly, she took the card and stored it in a pocket knowing that she would keep it forever. She remembered a conversation they had ages ago when she was six and in love with her daddy, how she had asked him pretty please if they could get married when she grew up. Ned had smiled softly at her and explained that he was already married to mom, but he promised to love her with a special kind of love that none of her brothers, or even her little sister who was on the way, would ever have. Slightly heartbroken, Sansa had asked daddy if she could marry Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. She tried to make her case saying that Prince Eric had a dog that he took care of, he had a castle and a boat, and he could dance very well, which were qualities she was looking for in a boy. Her dad smiled at her and promised she would marry someone brave and gentle and strong.

Ten years later, Sansa smiled at the memory and thought that her father had forgotten one quality for the man she would eventually marry. Yes, he ought to be brave and gentle and strong, but he should also send her roses, red roses.

 


	2. Golden Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Joffrey Baratheon asked her out on a date, a real date, she couldn't believe her luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for your comments on the previous chapter, lets keep moving along with the story!

She couldn’t stop smiling as Joffrey helped her out of the car and placed a hand on the small of her back. He had asked her out on a date, and unlike the other times they had hung out, this time it was only the two of them. He took her to The Red Keep, the hippest restaurant in the city, the kind of place that you needed to make reservations for six months in advance if you weren’t a Baratheon or a Lannister, lucky for her, Joffrey was both. The entire place exuded elegance, there was nothing like that back home, as the hostess led them through the room where dressed up men and women with beautiful jewelry dinned happily, Sansa thanked the gods that her mother had always insisted on teaching her and Arya how to act like ladies 

By a cozy little corner of the restaurant, a table for two with a candle burning low was waiting for them. Joffrey helped her with her chair and commented once again how pretty she looked, and Sansa could help but blush at his kind words. She told him he looked pretty too, with his elegant suit and fitted white shirt that made his eyes shine but instead of taking her compliment, Joffrey snorted and called her dumb, men weren’t pretty, they were handsome. She didn’t let his comment darkenn her mood, he was right, her brothers had actually told her the same thing before, she was dumb. When he reached across the table and took her hand in his, she knew that she would do anything to have him look at her the way he was doing right then.

When their waiter presented them with the dessert menu, Sansa’s eyes immediately darted towards the lemon pie, smiling brightly, she asked Joffrey if he wanted to share a piece. Half distracted, Joffrey told the waiter that they’d have a chocolate cake. Once they were left alone, he smiled at her and said he didn’t care for lemon and that she could pick some of his cake if she wanted, though she looked so lovely that it would be a pity if she gained weight 

“I actually asked you out for a reason, Sansa,” Joffrey said swiftly changing the subject before she could properly process his words, “I was talking to mother and, well, she likes you, and my father is friends with your father, so I thought maybe we should date. You’ll be my girlfriend, grandfather wants me to start going to more functions and events and having a pretty thing like you in my arm won’t hurt, the fact that you’re a Stark will be good too. 

Forgetting entirely about the lemon pie and everyone else in the world, Sansa all but jumped from her chair in excitement. Of course she’d be his girlfriend, she would go anywhere with him and smile pretty at whomever they met. Before moving to King’s Landing for school, Sansa had stepped in for her mother at some events and been her father’s plus one, how she had loved those black tie events, how her father would proudly introduce her to his friends and colleagues. When dessert came she didn’t pay attention to the cake, she was already dreaming of elegant cocktail parties, of Joffrey in a tuxedo and her in a nightgown dancing the night away, having fun and smiling.

He dropped her off at her dorm close to midnight, commented on how she should get an apartment so she wouldn’t have to live with gods knew what kind of people and drove away. In her mind, he wanted her to get her own apartment so that she’d be safe, he was right, she was pretty much living in the same building as complete strangers, and although she had never had any weird encounters, one could never be too safe. That night she went to bed with a smile on her face. She had a full ride scholarship to the school of her dreams, was studying law with a minor in fashion so that both she and her parents would be happy, she had gone out on a date with none other than Joffrey Baratheon, who was now her boyfriend. Life was good for Sansa, she genuinely thought so.

Full of energy and still finding it hard to believe that she had a boyfriend, Sansa woke up early on Saturday morning and went to the gym. Joffrey was right, if she was to go with him to important events, she always had to look her best, and if he liked her thin, she’d do everything in her power to be thin. Two hours later, completely exhausted and more than ready for a shower, she walked back to her dorm and found an arrangement of bright yellow roses was sitting by her door. She didn’t need to read the card to know who sent them, the yellow was bright enough that it was plain to see it was meant to resemble gold, and the red ribbon was the final touch. Getting them inside her room, she looked for the card: a golden lion stamped on the corner of a thick cream colored business card saying Joffrey Baratheon, that was all she got, but somehow she felt it was enough.

Looking back to that date, Sansa should have known that her relationship with Joffrey would not be what she dreamed. She should have paid attention to how he called her dumb, how he didn’t pay attention to what she liked and tried to control what she ate. But, most importantly, she should have noticed that he never asked her to be his girlfriend, he pretty much informed her of his decision and like a good girl she had followed. But eighteen-year-old Sansa wasn’t very smart, and she would come to learn that golden-haired princes weren’t always what they seemed to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a guest appearance!  
> Also, I will be modifying the tags as the story progresses.


	3. Pink Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving in together was supposed to get them closer, it wasn't supposed to be like this, it wasn't supposed to end up like it did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how things are supposed to get worst before they get better? Well, that's what happens here.

Moving in together was supposed to get them closer. They were supposed to pack boxes and dance to music and laugh at the silly things they owned while deciding what to take to their new home and what to donate or throw away. That was how it went in the movies, so that was how it was supposed to happen in real life, right?

Joffrey was supposed to help her carry her boxes, complain that she had too many shoes or purses and she would tell him that he was the reason she owned so many accessories because he liked her pretty and she tried to please him. She was supposed to sit on his bed while he packed his dress shirts and she told him how there were a few that she didn’t particularly like and that maybe he could get rid of, for her, to make her happy. But Sansa was beginning to understand that life wasn’t a song or a movie and that Joff wasn’t exactly the golden prince she had pictured six months ago when they started dating. 

They were having a few problems, but so did every couple, right? They had argued because of her because she had told Joff that she had finals coming up and she needed to study instead of going to so many parties with him. He had gotten mad then, said to her that he needed her with him. It would have been sweet if he had stopped talking there, but then he went on to explain that he needed her because he wanted to do business with the host who was from the north and she was pretty much the north embodied. Yes, they had been arguing some, so when Joffrey said that he wanted them to move in together, she was surprised but still agreed, thinking of apartment hunting together and dreaming how to build their new home. How mistaken she had been.

Two weeks after she agreed to move in with him, as they were on their way to yet another business dinner, Joffrey told her that his mother had found an apartment in Aegon’s Hill district and that he’d be moving in that weekend. Sansa was speechless; she had told Joffrey about the different places she had found in a nearer zone, maybe not as fancy as Aegon’s Hill but somewhere close to both the Lannister building and her school. She had sent her pictures of the places and he had either ignored her emails or answered that he’d add them to the list, and now he was dropping this bomb on her as if it was nothing.

“Well, you can come to the dorm on Friday night, I don’t have many things but…”, she told him trying to contain her anger.

“Friday night? I’m going out with the boys, why would I go to your shitty dorm? Look, just pack whatever you have or don’t pack, I don’t care. I’ll leave a set of keys for you in the lobby. Now stop frowning, you look hideous when you frown.”

Sansa spent all Friday night running around finding boxes and moving supplies, she played her music and separated all her belongings into three piles: keep, throw, donate. She marked the boxes to make it easier to unpack and wondered how she was going to fit everything in her car. Her parents didn’t really know she was moving with Joffrey; she had told them that she’d be moving to a new unit with a few girls from her class, that they didn’t need to worry because it was covered by her scholarship and that she would see them in the fall. They had sounded so proud of her, and she had felt like such a fake, but she was doing this for Joffrey, she was putting in the effort to make things work.

When she heard a knock on her door on Saturday morning, Sansa smiled brighter than she had in days, thinking that Joff might have decided to come and help her, be the attentive boyfriend he had been in the beginning. When she opened the door and saw not Joff but the Hound standing before her, her smile faded.

“Not who you expected, girl?”, he asked but she knew it was rhetoric, he didn’t usually ask anything but rhetoric questions. “Should I leave?”, that time, he did expect an answer.

“No, please, don’t leave… I… I could use some help.”

Out of all of Joffrey’s friends, she liked Sandor Clegane the most. Everybody called him Hound for reasons she had been too scared to ask, but Joff called him Dog. Maybe it was because he wasn’t Joff’s friend, he had told her once that they were mostly business acquaintances, but for some reason Joffrey liked him, and it wouldn’t be good for Sandor’s name to have a fall out with him. Maybe it was because although he had a sharp tongue, he was almost kind to her; Sandor wasn’t like Blount or Trant who agreed with Joffrey when he called her stupid, who made her blood run cold when they looked at her as if she were a piece of meat. No, Sandor Clegane was a rough man, a tall wall of muscle with a horrible mood who called things as they were, even if it hurt, but she suspected that deep down he was a good man.

“Is this everything?”, Sandor asked as he looked at the neatly stacked boxes.

“Yeah. I… I don’t own much, I guess.”

“How about you stuff those ‘donate’ things in your car, there’s not much. I’ll get your stuff in my truck, and then you can show me where the damn dumpster is so you can get rid of that shit.”

As she checked the rearview mirror to make sure he was still following her, Sansa wondered how the hell she would have moved her things to the new apartment without Sandor’s help. He had hauled everything into the back of his truck, packing it perfectly to use every spot available to its fullest just like her dad used to when stuffing their camping gear in his SUV. He had thrown out most of the garbage too, carrying more things in one trip than she would have been able to move in three and he hadn’t complained once. He had followed her to the donation center and helped her unload the things from her car, seeing a diner nearby, Sansa asked him to please let her treat him to some breakfast. While they ate, Sandor told her how Joffrey had laughed on Friday night, saying that he'd be playing golf and chilling while his pretty girlfriend packed up her life to move in with him. Sansa had looked down as she heard the Hound's words, knowing that Joffrey was the kind of man who would laugh at her expense and then blushed because Joffrey hadn’t called her pretty in weeks.

When they arrived at the building, Sansa did her best not to look too impressed; it was a new apartment complex, all white and marble and although it was beautiful, it felt cold. The doorman gave her the keys and showed them to the service elevator so that they could start moving her things. When she stepped into the apartment for the first time, Sansa’s heart fell, everything was cream, gold and red, what Joffrey called Lannister colors. Everything was new and shiny and Joffrey, the place was fully equipped, and she figured that Cersei didn’t just find the place but designed it for her son’s comfort. This was clearly Joffrey’s home, not hers. Walking further into the apartment she saw that Joffrey’s things were already there but didn’t find a single box or anything to indicate that he had been there. 

“I don’t understand,” the words must have left her mouth unconsciously but when she turned Sandor was already unloading boxes into the foyer and looking at her with sympathy in his eyes.

“Mother dearest took care of it, probably bought him brand new everything and paid for movers to pack his shit, deliver and unpack it. The maid probably took care of whatever mess was left behind, that boy hasn’t worked for anything in his life, why would he move his own shit. Now stop staring and grab a box, I’m not your fucking houseman.”

She placed her kitchen equipment in one of the free cabinets and made do with the smaller closet that Joffrey had left for her. Sandor bought pizza, and they ate quietly in front of the TV during a short break, neither of them mentioned the fact that Joff hadn’t even called her once during the day. It was close to midnight when Sansa finished unpacking the last box and Sandor went home, he had offered to take the boxes out and even throw them in the recycling bin after hearing her talk about how important that was and how using paper and plastic was killing the environment. She had smiled and said she’d do it in the morning, they had stacked the flattened boxes by the kitchen and she didn’t know if maybe Joffrey already had some kitchen things, in which case she would need the boxes to pack them for donating.

Sansa didn’t want to sleep alone in a new apartment that she was supposed to share with her boyfriend. So far, all the good memories she had created were with another man but she tried not to think about it. Looking at the time, she wondered when Joff would get home and wrapped herself in one of the throw blankets she had packed, deciding to watch TV until he arrived. She must have dozed off because she woke up with a startle at the sound of something breaking and a string of curses. Immediately, she jumped and went to the kitchen calling out Joffrey’s name. There he was, looking furious at the broken beer bottle on the floor and a wet cardboard box that had slipped from where they had all been standing.

“What the fuck, Sansa! You could have killed me!”, he screamed at her, his voice as cold as his blue eyes and fear ran through her.

“It was an accident,” she tried to explain, “You must have tripped…”

She didn’t even finish what she was saying, the impact of Joffrey’s palm on her face made her head turn and she fell instantly, banging her head against the marble corner of the kitchen counter. She didn’t know if she was knocked out for a second but when she opened her eyes, she didn’t see a concerned boyfriend, she saw a boy throwing a tantrum, calling her stupid and useless before turning around and storming out of the apartment. She cried for what felt like hours, curled on the kitchen floor. She cried because of the pain in her head and face; she cried because she felt the warm and sticky blood running down her temple and busted lip, she cried because she was scared and alone and she cried because her life was supposed to be a movie, a song, but it wasn’t.

Standing up on shaky legs, Sansa considered calling her dad but decided against it; she was a grown-up, she could handle things herself. She considered calling Arya but things had been rocky between them since she started dating Joffrey and the last thing she needed was her little sister saying I told you so. Exhausted, Sansa cleaned up the broken glass and the few drops of blood that had fallen on the floor. She walked to the immaculate bathroom of the brand new apartment and looked for the first aid kit she had brought with her, cleaning her wounds before showering. She tried to stay awake, knowing that if she had lost consciousness it wasn’t safe to sleep but she was so tired and so alone and so sad that when sleep took over, she didn’t fight it.

She woke up late on Sunday morning. The apartment was silent when she stepped out of bed, making her way to the kitchen, she found everything exactly as she had left it. The sound of keys opening the front door made her shake, wrapping her arms around her middle, she stepped into the foyer and waited. Standing in front of her with a sorry look on his face was Joffrey, freshly showered and apparently well rested, a bouquet of pink roses in his hands.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, “I was drunk, I was tired from moving. It will never happen again, I swear, love. Never again." 

Nineteen-year-old Sansa wasn’t much brighter than eighteen years old Sansa because she believed every single word the Lannister boy said even when he had never before called her darling or love. Nineteen-year-old Sansa accepted the empty apologies and empty words of a stupid, sadistic boy, no matter if he was legally an adult, Joffrey Baratheon had always acted like a conceited little boy. It would take another two years her life for her to realize that he was never going to change. Two years of broken ribs, sprained joints and bruises in her skin along with many insults, two years of crying into the pillow, of hearing his empty promises at first and then his not so empty threats. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most angsty chapter, I promise things start getting better from now on.  
> Also, the Hound finally made an appearance... yay! right? 
> 
> Let me know if you liked it, and who do you think will be showing up next!


	4. Coral Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little help, Sansa reminds herself she is a wolf... And Ned Stark finally does something he had been waiting twenty years to do again.

Sansa first met professor Baelish while she attended King’s Landing University, where had been a guest speaker to a conference she had needed to participate in for one of her classes. She sat down for the hour-long lecture on some subject she wasn’t fully interested in after she had moved in with Joffrey but before things took a turn for the worst.

Always a star student, she had sat down on the third row, taken her laptop out and scribbled a few notes here and there to avoid falling asleep. Once or twice she got the feeling that the speaker, an older man with salt and pepper hair on his temples, was staring at her but she shrugged it off, why would he? She wasn’t anything special after all. Once the lecture finished, she started packing up her things as the majority of students left the auditorium, she was just about to go when a now familiar voice interrupted her though.

“Excuse me, dear, I know this might come across a little strange but are you by any chance related to Catelyn Stark?”, the man asked with a small smile on his lips.

“Hum, yes, she’s my mother. I’m Sansa.”, she said politely.

“The resemblance…”, the man said in a soft whisper, “it’s uncanny. I’m Petyr Baelish, your mother and I have known each other since childhood. What’s your major, dear?”

“Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you, professor,” the room was all but empty, and now she had no doubt that the man had been staring at her, starting to feel uncomfortable, Sansa tried to find a way out. “I should…”

“Get to class? Of course”, he said, a smile never leaving his face, “Here, Sansa, if you ever need anything in the academic world, feel free to contact me,” he said while presenting her with a business card, “send my greetings to your mother.”

Her life changed the week after Valentine’s day. Joffrey had left for a business trip but left her with two broken ribs to remember him by. Two days after his little gift, Sandor Clegane had shown up at her apartment and told her that if she wanted out, he could help her but being the frightened little girl she was, she had refused him. The Hound had looked at her with anger and pity and turned away, she tried to call him later that day, and the day after but he never picked up. When there was a knock on the door the following week, Sansa all but yanked the door opened thinking it might be him only to find her brother Robb on the other side.

Her eyes had grown, the tears she had been holding in finally found a way out, and she threw herself into her brother’s arms and cried for hours. She told him everything, how she had been forced to drop off, how her days were scheduled dawn till dusk with society meetings and brunch with empty-headed girls who wanted nothing but get a sugar daddy or be a trophy wife. She told him about her training sessions, where she worked so hard she threw up, her restricted diet and, finally, she told him about the abuse, mental and physical. Robb had asked in a deadly whisper where Joffrey was, and when was he supposed to get back, but Sansa refused to say. Robb packed her bags for her, took everything she owned that wasn’t a gift from the Lannisters or the Baratheons, her brother still knew which things gave her most comfort, and while he worked methodically and with precision, Sansa just sat down in the living room in complete silence. Two hours later, she was in the safety of her brother’s hotel room, eating chicken soup and watching her big brother call Jon who worked in the police department. Their plane left King's Landing just as the sun came down, shades of orange tainted the sky, and she promised that she would never again forget she was Sansa Stark, and she was a wolf.

She got her life back when she went home. Her mom and dad hugged her and took care of everything; they asked if she wanted to take some time off, but she insisted on going back to school. Sansa decided to transfer to the University of the North and start in the fall, and that was when she remembered Petyr Baelish and his offer of help. They met again almost a year later, professor Baelish looking precisely the same and her looking thinner and older. He helped her get her documents ready and pick a schedule to get back on track faster, and they established a friendship of sorts 

After a few months, life was good again. Robb had taken over the western territory for the company but managed to visit enough as not to miss him, Jon got promoted to detective, Arya was training to join the Special Forces, Bran was doing great in school, and Rickon was a wild thing with a big heart. They celebrated her 21st birthday as a family, with a barbecue and her dad grilling way too much food, her mother baked a birthday cake, and her siblings chipped in and got her a stupid briefcase to make fun of her major of choice, but it was actually pretty cute.

They were about to cut the cake when the doorbell rang, and Arya raced to the door.

“Hey San… we can take this to the elder’s home tomorrow if you want”, her little sister said in a serious voice as she walked in.

Sansa looked at Arya and then at the vase of coral roses in her hands, she took the flowers and looked at her family, silently asking if any of them was the sender, no one said a thing. A little nervous, she looked around for the card, hidden between the long stems she found the picture of a Mockingbird, a shiver ran down her spine as she agreed with Arya about the elder’s home. Afterward, things got a little quieter, Rickon asked who had sent the flowers, but Sansa changed the subject, before long, they were all gathered in the family room watching a movie.

The next day, as she and Arya were driving back from the elder’s home, Sansa’s phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but it looked like it was coming from the university. A little unsure, she parked and picked up the phone, it was Jory Cassle, head of campus security and family friend. Sansa could hear him smiling through the phone as he asked her to please get to the university security building when she had a minute.

“Oh my god,” both Stark sisters said as they saw the honorable Eddard Stark sitting behind bars. Arya’s face was lit up with a smile as she quickly took a picture with her phone, but Sansa’s voice was drenched with concern.

“What happened?”, Sansa asked. 

“I had to bring him in for attacking a faculty member. Don’t worry, no charges have been filed, and all the paperwork will mysteriously disappear. I couldn’t let him walk away though, and… you know, I wanted to remind you that your father is quite a good man.”

Jory let her dad out, and they walked silently to her car, Arya smiling and almost skipping ahead of them. Sansa got behind the wheel and watched her father as he put on his seatbelt, his knuckles were raw, and his usually pressed clothes looked rumpled, but he had a smile on his face. It was the same smile he had when he won an argument with mom or when he won against the boys in poker. The drive home was silent, as they pulled over into the driveway, Sansa could see her mom standing by the door, a concerned look on her face.

“He had it coming, Cat.”, Ned Stark said as he exited his daughter’s car.

“Let me take a look at that hand then,” her mom answered with a small smile on her lips, a smile that reached her eyes despite how hard she was trying to look annoyed.

She and Arya stayed behind, watching the scene before them that spoke of trust and understanding and true love. They saw Catelyn Tully place a kiss on dad's forehead; they saw her taking his hand and leading him into the house. They heard her ask if it was worth it, and their father’s roaring laughter and his strong voice as he said that it wasn’t just worth it, but that it was better than twenty years ago. Apparently, that wasn’t the first time Ned Stark had punched the lights out of Petyr Baelish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love stories when Ned Stark is all protective of his family, I hope you do too!
> 
> I want to thank everybody who is reading and following this story, I really appreciate that you do, specially because I know I get a bit restless when I don't see many interactions between Sandor and Sansa, I guess this is a new approach for me.


	5. Black Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To anyone else, Ramsay Bolton might have looked like a dream, but to her, he looked like bad news.

Sansa didn’t see professor Baeilsh again after the month before graduation, in all honesty, she had been avoiding him, but then he had spotted her in the hallway and asked her to please hold on for a minute. Surrounded by students, Sansa listened as professor Baelish apologized for the misunderstanding, he had meant the flowers as nothing more than a gift, but now he could see how things might have looked from the outside. He told her that he held no grouches against her or her family, that he understood why Ned Stark had come for him, especially given the history he and her mother had. Just as she was about to leave, professor Baelish asked her if she had already gotten an internship and Sansa froze.

Her dad had offered her a position in the family company, Direwolf Ltd was expanding its business, and they were looking into adding a new person in the legal department to oversee the creation of a new division. Sansa wasn’t sure that she wanted to go into corporate law, she understood it just fine and was able to navigate that world smoothly thanks to her privileged upbringing, and while it wasn’t something that excited her, the idea of finishing school without a job scared her.

“A friend of mine, Roose Bolton, is looking for someone to intern for him, it would expose you to almost every part of a business, might help you find what you want to do. I can put in a word for you if you want.”

Suddenly things started falling into place, Sansa interviewed with Roose Bolton himself, and he offered her the position on the spot. It wasn’t even as an internship; she would be his assistant and, just like Baelish said, she’d be exposed to everything in the company. When Sansa asked why would he go ahead and hire someone with no experience for the position, Mr. Bolton looked at her and said she had the right education and the right name. Then she found out that Jon was on an extended assignment in the area and he called and offered her a place to crash while she figured if she liked the job. With a job and housing secured, Sansa enjoyed the few weeks of school she had left. All her friends kept telling her how lucky she was, how they envied her and Sansa simply smiled at them and laughed it off. Still, deep down in her, there was a fear that things were going too well for her.

Her first few days at Weeping Water were… unexpected. It wasn’t that far away from home, only a few hours drive, but everything seemed different. The air didn’t smell fresh and clean; it felt somewhat swampy. The grass was mossy and the humidity was unbearable. She arrived on a sunny day, and the second she stepped out of the car, she could feel her skin getting sticky with moisture and sweat; her hair was a wild thing, and everything seemed too green or too gray. Jon’s rented apartment was small but enough, he was supposed to stay there for another four months and said that if she liked it, they could talk to the landlord so that he could sign over his lease.

Her first day at work went by fast, Roose Bolton reminded her faintly of Tywin Lannister. Sansa didn’t truly know Twyin Lannister, but the resemblance in their features, in their cold natures, made her wary enough. She got swamped with work on her very first day, Mr. Bolton’s old assistant had either been terrible or left angry enough as to leave a mess behind. She didn’t know if she was being tested, if Roose Bolton wanted to see how much she would bend before she broke but she didn’t mind. She was a Stark, she was a wolf, and her father had been so proud of her when she politely declined the position at the family company. She wasn’t going to let dad down, she wasn’t going to let herself down and she wasn’t going to let the ghost of Joffrey Baratheon make her think she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, worthy enough.

Soon she had been working at Dreadfort for a month, she knew everyone’s name, she knew Mr. Bolton’s likes and dislikes, could anticipate almost anything and no longer felt like she was playing catch up. Jon worried about her. He said she didn’t sleep enough, and was always in a hurry. Jon thought the Boltons were working her too hard, but she mistook his concern for pity and snapped at him saying that she wasn’t weak, that she was a Stark just like he was and that she didn’t need him taking care of her. She felt sorry for snapping at him, all day she felt bad about it, but when evening came and she got home, there was only a note waiting for her saying that he had to leave on an emergency and would be back in a few day’s time. A week later, when Jon finally came back, it was too late for apologies, their relationship was frail again, she had gone back to being his snob half-sister, the one who thought herself better than him. 

While things at home weren’t completely smooth, things at work were going better, so she sought refuge there. That was until Roose Bolton called in sick, the first time in over thirty years was what she heard the employees say, then came in Ramsay Bolton and the game changed.

To anyone else, Ramsay Bolton might have looked like a dream. A tall fellow, snow white skin and dark brown hair, angular features, blue eyes and almost perfect smile, but to her, he looked like bad news. If she ever had a thing for blue eyes, it died the moment she realized what kind of monster Joffrey was, and the final nail in the coffin was the way Ramsay’s cold blue eyes looked at her when she introduced herself. The smile that curled his wormy lips, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, made her shiver and she hoped that Mr. Bolton would recuperate fast from whatever it was he had. In an astounding turn of events, he didn’t and not a week later; it was Ramsay Bolton who was apparently in charge of running everything in Dreadfort Inc. Suddenly she was no longer running reports, proofing statements or controlling budgets, she was keeping agendas, work and personal, setting up dinner reservations, sending flowers, receiving mysterious men who looked even creepier than Ramsay. She tried to shrug it off, tried to convince herself that Ramsay was just toying with her, establishing he was in charge now, but she could feel his eyes on her every time she got up from her desk, making her feel uncomfortable even in her loose pants and long skirts.

Roose Bolton fell sick the week after she took over the apartment lease and Sansa thanked the new gods and the old for Jon Snow setting up the renewal for only six months because three weeks of Ramsay were making her consider the idea of quitting and going back home. She didn’t; though, she kept telling herself to hang on for another week, that things would get better soon, that Ramsay would get bored of toying with her eventually. And then, two months into the new lease, things calmed down. Ramsay walked to her desk on a Friday afternoon, no creepy look on his face this time, and told her that he’d need all the reports she usually did for his father.

“I need them first thing Monday morning,” he said calmly, and for once his voice didn’t send chills down her spine, “I’ll be working all weekend, feel free to come in if you need to, swipe in so you get the hours.”

She didn’t finish her reports that day, but she wasn’t about to come in on a Saturday to spend the day alone with her boss, so she took her computer home with her and worked from home. On Monday morning, she went in earlier than usual, left the reports on Ramsay’s desk and carried on with her life. From that day on, things started getting better; they had gone almost back to normal when Myranda happened.

Sansa had seen the girl a couple of times, a brunette that wore heavy makeup and revealing clothes, who had cruel eyes that matched Ramsay’s and who was clearly in love with the man. She tried to like Myranda, she really did, but then the girl ran into her in the bathroom and accused her of trying to seduce her boyfriend. 

“He’ll tire of you, just like he tired of Violet and Tansy and Kyra and then he’ll come back to me.” Myranda had all but screamed at her in the empty bathroom.

“Myranda, look, I think you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not interested in Ramsay… he’s my boss, nothing else.”

Myranda had stared at her for a minute before rushing out of the bathroom. But then, a few weeks later, Ramsay started looking for excuses to stop by her desk more often, he commented on how nice she looked or asked about her weekend. Had been any other male employee, she would have smiled at him and carried on with her day, but that was Ramsay, and suddenly Myranda’s words started to make sense. She couldn’t file a complaint with HR because he wasn't inappropriate, everything he said could be passed off as concern or trying to make friends in the workplace. But then, on a Tuesday night, things started getting weird.

Ramsay waited for her to be done and offered to walk her to her car, she could feel him standing too close in the elevator, walking too close in the parking lot. On Wednesday morning, he said she smelled nice. On Thursday he asked her out to lunch, but luckily she was behind with work and had an excuse to decline. On Friday morning, he all but purposely ran into her coming out of the ladies room. That afternoon, just before going home, she filed a complaint with HR.

When she got home, there was a box with a big bow waiting on the doorstep. Sansa smiled, her mom had mentioned that her friends had gotten into sending care packages to their kids and talked for an hour about the things she had posted for Robb. She didn’t want to admit it, but Sansa felt jealous, although she was only a few hours away, she missed home dearly especially her mother’s lemon cakes. She opened the box as soon as she got into the apartment only to drop it a moment later, pale and frightened, Sansa went straight to her computer and sent out an email, then, still avoiding the sight of the box on her floor, she called Jon. An hour later, when he walked through the door, Sansa was still sitting on the same chair from where she called.

“San?”, he asked and then followed her gaze to the box, picking it up and looking at the dead and putrid black roses, her brother’s face contorted, “I’ll take care of this.”

She thought Jon was talking about the flowers, he wasn’t, it took him a few days, but he took care of everything.

 


	6. Daisies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wondered why all the men in her life looked almost the same: blue eyes, snow white skin, blond hair.  
> Not all of them, she thought and pictured her father, Robb and Jon and Bran and Rickon. Sandor Clegane didn’t look like that either.

The Vale was much delightful than Weeping Water, the mountain air was clean and cold, the greens were intense, and the humidity wasn’t crazy. It was almost like home without it being home, and Sansa loved it.

She would be working with the Tully side of the family, her greatuncle Bryden owned the biggest fishing company in the Westernlands, Blackfish, and while her aunt Lysa was supposed to see that everything was in order in the ports, she wasn’t doing an outstanding job. So when Bryden Tully heard that his great-niece was looking for a job and had a degree in law, he knew they could both benefit from it. Gulltown was a quiet place, it was peaceful and the very definition of what a small town looked like in the imagination of the city folk. It had three bars, five restaurants, a supermarket, two gas stations, a library and the fish market. The rent was cheap, cheaper than she thought it would be, so Sansa indulged a little and got an apartment with a view of the bay, she loved the ocean, that was probably the one thing she missed about King’s Landing. She walked the docks as part of her job, the men greeted her respectfully and answered any questions she had, once or twice, a brave fisherman would gather the nerve to ask her out, but she always declined. Still, she’d gift them a smile, and they seemed not to hold any hard feelings.

Sansa was having a cup of coffee, staring out the windows of her office which overlooked the docks when a dash of blond hair caught her eye. A man was staring at her from the docks, a man who looked out of place with his pressed pants and perfect shirt. He caught her looking back at him and winked at her, blushing, Sansa walked away from the window and started going over some contracts that were due for renewal. After a few minutes reading the same paragraph over and over again, Sansa stood up and went back to the window, the man wasn’t there anymore. She wondered why all the men in her life looked almost the same: blue eyes, snow white skin, blond hair.

_Not all of them_ , she thought and pictured her father, Robb and Jon and Bran and Rickon. Sandor Clegane didn’t look like that either. She had found herself thinking of the Hound lately, of the way he offered her a way out, the empty look in his eyes when she refused to leave. She thought of how he had disappeared from her life, it had been three years, and yet she still reminisced him. Sometimes she wondered what had become of him; she didn’t remember what he did for a living, what kind of business he ran or where worked. Once she tried doing an online search for his name, it was the same day the papers announced that Joffrey had married, she got as far as typing it down before closing the browser, there was a reason why he had stayed out of her life, after all, they weren’t really friends. 

“Hey Randa,” Sansa called as she exited her office, “I’m gonna grab a coffee, get some air… you want anything?” 

“I’ll take one of those hunky fishermen that are always asking you out,” the young woman said, and Sansa laughed.

There was a small coffee place by the docks, it was busy and the coffee wasn’t the best in town, but it was conveniently close to the office. Sansa was walking along the bay when something caught her eye: the profile of a man, he stood taller than anyone else, in her world, there was only one man who stood a head above everyone else. Something happened inside her, on an impulse, Sansa ran across the street, not minding the incoming cars, she ran towards the man, trying to get a clear view of him, she thought he had dark hair, a bushy beard. A group of people walked in front of her, and Sansa lost him, how was it that a man so tall, so easy to spot from a distance, had all but disappeared into thin air. Nervous, Sansa turned around and bumped into someone, she heard a curse and an insult but kept moving, a few steps later she lost hope, the man was one. 

“I’m sorry,” she turned around to apologize to whomever she had bumped. Her eyes grew when she realized it was the same man with blond hair that had winked at her less than an hour ago. 

“Fucking watch where you’re going,” was all she got.

She went back to the office, the coffee long forgotten, the blond man a blurry memory, the only thing on her mind was the shadow of a tall man walking the docks and then disappearing. Letting a sigh out, Sansa woke up her computer screen and started working; she needed something to keep herself busy and boring, repetitive legal terms were precisely what would do. She didn’t hear Randa saying goodbye, she didn’t notice when the sun went down and the moon came out, what broke her out of her trance was the obnoxious sound ringtone Arya had programmed into her phone, she smiled and picked up the phone.

Ever since she moved to the Vale, Sansa had dinner with aunt Lysa’s family on Thursday nights. It started as a selfless act; aunt Lysa seemed to be taking the death of her late husband rather harshly, so Sansa volunteered to cook for her and little Robin. Then, the following week aunt Lysa had invited her to dinner as a way to say thank you, after that, it was Robin who called and extended an invitation and before she realized, what started as an act of kindness turned into a commitment. Sansa let out a sight as she stood in the threshold, a small poundcake on her hands, she knocked on the door and got ready for the fortieth dinner of the year.

“Sansa, my dear.”

Peter Baelish’s voice hit her like a bucket of iced water; she must have looked confused, so confused, because the next thing she knew was that she was stepping into the house, Petyr Baelish touching her arm and guiding her to the living room. He was talking what a pleasant surprise it was to see her and the lucky coincidence that they were both in town at the same time.

“Have you met my associate, Harry Hardying?", professor Baelish asked as they entered the dining room.

“Oh gods,” the words escaped her lips before she could help it, luckily, they all thought it was because she was pleasantly surprised, which she wasn’t.

Standing next to her aunt was the blond man from the docks, the one who had winked at her, who had cursed at her. The man, Harry, looked at her a little shocked but followed her lead and pretended not to know her, he introduced himself with a bright smile and a soft kiss on her cheek. Sansa had never liked Robin, little Sweetrobin, as much as she did when the boy started throwing a tantrum saying that the only man in that house allowed to kiss Sansa was him. 

Dinner was tasteless, and if someone asked her what the conversation was about, Sansa wouldn't be able to answer. Fortunately, she was only meant to sit and look pretty while the men handled the difficult task of carrying the conversation. She learned that Harry had come into the picture after Baelish snatched him away from a company in which he was wasting his talents, the boy was a charmer, Petyr said, and a master salesman. Sansa couldn’t disagree more, she thought of Harry as a rude flirt, but she kept a smile on her face and nodded at whatever was being said. What she couldn’t seem to understand was the way aunt Lysa hung onto every word professor Baelish said, she had the look of a schoolgirl in love, and that made Sansa’s skin crawl. Dinner ran late, after the main course, dessert was served, and then Harry asked for coffee, and before they knew it, it was almost midnight, young Robin had nearly fallen asleep on his chair, only to have a maid all but carry him to bed.

“Thank you,” Harry said softly as he walked Sansa to her car, strangely, professor Baelish had insisted on helping aunt Lysa with the plates and remained behind, “For pretending not to know me. That day at the docks… I’m sorry, I had just received a phone call, a deal that fell through. I shouldn’t have snapped at you; it was clearly an accident.” 

Sansa remained quiet for a minute, he was apologizing for the cursing but didn’t even mention that he winked at her. She suspected he didn’t remember; he probably went around winking at women and flashing that dimpled smile. He was a pretty boy, but Sansa had long ago lost her taste for pretty boys. In her experience, pretty boys turned out to be cruel men.

“Don’t mention it,” she said and unlocked her car, “Thank you for walking me to my car. I better go now, it’s late.”

Monday mornings were chaos at Blackfish. The offices didn’t work during the weekends but the docks did and so, every single Monday, Sansa was greeted by a pile of papers waiting to be looked over, revised and signed before being passed on to either accounting or sales or whatever department they needed to be passed on. Still, Sansa loved those days, she loved being busy and making phone calls, she loved checking up on things she didn’t understand, talking to the senior officers on the docks, having an excuse to step into the fresh air while still getting work done.

She loved visiting old Tom at the dock office, a small room with a desk and an ever-burning pot of coffee. She liked talking to him and listening to his stories, having lunch with him on Mondays as he joked that if he weren’t still in love with his wife, he would be one of those younglings asking her out. With a smile on her face and two cups of coffee courtesy of Tom, Sansa went back to her office across the street.

“Got you this,” Sansa told Randa as she placed the steaming cup on her desk.

“And someone got you that,” Randa replied pointing at short vase with a mix of daisies in it.

Leaving her cup next to Randa’s, Sansa walked to her desk and picked the card up: 

_‘You’re something memorable, HH’_

“You like them?”, Sansa asked carrying the vase and looking at Randa, “They are yours then.”

Sansa exchanged the vase for her coffee mug and walked back to her office, closing the glass door behind her and immediately turning towards her computer. In the reflexion of her screen, she could see Randa softly touching the flowers, good, at least one of them would enjoy them. Shifting on her seat, Sansa took Harry’s card out of her pocket and threw it in the trash. _Memorable_ , she thought and laughed at the irony.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up on Wednesday! Thank you to everyone who has commented or left kudos, and to everyone who is still reading when we've seen so little of Sandor so far, I promise it won't be much longer until we get more of him. 
> 
> Please, let me know what you think so far.


	7. Floral Arrangement #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks and months of avoiding Harry Hardying had come down crumbling with a single phone call. Thank you so much, aunt Lysa...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Wednesday, so here's a new chapter!

He had pretty much ambushed her during dinner the following Thursday. Sansa hadn’t been expecting to find Harry or Petyr Baelish at her aunt’s house and yet they there were. Harry smiled brightly at her, and she could swear that she saw Petyr nodding at him as he did. Harry asked if she had liked the flowers and immediately aunt Lysa was all over her case, asking about the flowers and saying what a nice young man Harry was. It turned out that he was at Gulltown for business, he lived in Runestone, just a half an hour drive away from them, and was head of the sales and marketing department of one of Petyr’s many companies; Sansa smiled and acted surprised.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Harry said over dessert, “And my biggest regret is that I didn’t ask for your number, I would have loved to take you out for a drink.”

Aunt Lysa clapped her hands like a child while Robin rolled his eyes and asked if Petyr was leaving with Harry too. Sansa thought she was safe, with the subject changed and aunt Lysa explaining that uncle Petyr would also be going but that he’d be coming back soon. Aunt Lysa said something about Petyr being around more frequently as she looked at Petyr with a mixture of lust and love and Sansa lost what little of her appetite she had left. She was helping aunt Lysa clear the table when Harry snuck up behind her, his hand on her upper arm and a smile on his face. Although she was usually the first to criticise young men and women for improper behaviors, Aun Lysa said nothing.

“So, about that number?”

She did her best not to roll her eyes, wondering if he used that line often and if it worked. She was about to make an excuse to leave the room when her aunt grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, shoving them into her hands. 

“Oh, don’t be shy dear, Harry is a good boy, it’s plain to see.”

There was something about Harry Hardying that she didn’t like so Sansa decided to do a little research. She checked his social media profiles, having to accept his friend and follow request in exchange for full access to his profiles. The first thing Sansa noticed was that most of his friends were girls, she saw the pictures at bars and parties, nothing too wild but there were no tagged pictures of him. She looked at the pictures he posted, the latest one a scenery of the docks where she bumped into him. There was something about that guy that Sansa didn’t like and when the texting started, little good morning texts, messages asking how her day had been, a smiley emoticon here and there, she knew that it was time to call in the big guns.

“Weasel,” Sansa said as soon as Arya picked up, “I have a mission for you.”

Since asking Arya to get all the dirt she could on Harry, Sansa had been waiting for her call. Ever since they were little girls, Arya had been very good at finding people’s secrets, even if it meant reading their private diaries or following someone with her bike. When Arya finished her training and was given the chance of where to apply, she had picked the Faceless Men division of the Special Forces, so now she was a professional snooper, yet, despite all her training and resources, Arya was taking too long to get back on Harry Hardying. A few days later, Sansa’s phone rang and showed a call from home, it took her just a second to realize her mistake, but it was a second too late.

Catelyn Stark was everything Sansa could even dream of in a mother. She was pretty and patient, stern but kind, she always had time for her children, even when her children didn’t have time for her, and she had loved their father openly, showing the girls how a man ought to treat them and the boys how they should treat their companions. Her mother had stepped down from management at Blackfish when pregnant with Arya, too many kids in the house and not enough hours in the day, but still held a position on the board and was very up to date on what was going on. Catelyn was the reason Sansa could never settle for being a trophy wife, even when Sansa had once thought that was what she wanted. Catelyn had always been on Arya’s case when she climbed trees and played like the boys, but she was also the first one to support her decision to join the Special Forces. Yes, her mother was a force of nature, a stronghold, when Catelyn Stark wanted something, she got it. And right then, with that phone call, Catelyn wanted to know who the young man who had sent flowers to her eldest daughter was and why she had to find out about him through her dear sister.

When Arya finally got back to her, Sansa was surprised to find so little information. Sure, there were lots of pictures of Hardgying partying with girls, some of him making out with a blond or a brunette but those weren’t things she could use to recline a date, they were all cautiously spaced, a few months in between each woman. Arya had hit a dead end, frustration evident in her voice, and asked if Sansa wanted her to use her work resources, Sansa thanked her but told her it wasn’t necessary. That night, Sansa dreamed of all the girls she had seen in the pictures, all of them laughing at her while she was out on a date with Harry, and then, in the background of her dreams, she saw a tall figure, but before she could do anything, the dream was over.

For months, the shadow of a tall man with dark hair haunted her dreams. She dreamed of him standing in line for coffee at the docks. In her dreams, she called his name, but he never listened to her, and if he did, he didn’t turn around. Other times she dreamed of casually bumping into him at the grocery store. She would be distracted and walk into something hard, but instead of hearing curses she would hear the sound of his raspy voice, her eyes would shot up, and she’d see the beard, the scarred lips but she never got to see his eyes, she always woke up before that happened. It was bittersweet torture, to dream of him, feel him close in her dreams and yet not know about him. The dreams didn’t bother her, unlike Harry’s persisting texting. 

“Sansa, I forgot to tell you, Harry is coming to town next week! He’s very excited about taking you out to dinner.” Aunt Lysa told her over dinner.

Weeks and months of avoiding Harry Hardying had come down crumbling with a single phone call. Apparently, Harry had called Lysa with the story of losing his cell phone and with it, Sansa’s number. He had been his charming self and told Lysa that he had been asking Sansa out for months, but the girl was always busy, always working and that while he found that admirable, it concerned him how hard she worked. That was all it took for Harry to get a date with her, a date she wouldn’t be able to cancel no matter what and so, Sansa resigned herself to clearing her schedule for Thursday evening and planning an outfit for a date, something she hadn’t done in forever.

For once Sansa thought herself blessed for the scarce entertainment in Gulltown. She knew every single restaurant there, what she liked and what she didn’t, she knew the wait staff, she knew every single street and shortcut in town and the familiarity of it all made her feel safe. Harry Hardying didn’t have that cruel look that Joffrey or Ramsay did, his skin wasn’t as pale, but there was something in him that reminded her of both men.

 _“He’s arrogant_ , she thought as she climbed off the rental car and walked towards the finest restaurant in Gulltown, “ _he’s as arrogant, like Joffrey and Ramsay”_

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever worked so hard to get a date in my life,” Harry said as they took a seat, the smile on his face trying to make the comment sound like a joke, “I’m sure you’re worth it though.”

His voice sounded sincere; his eyes sparkled a little in a way that she had never seen before and Sansa thought that maybe she was being unreasonable. Maybe Harry Hardying was a perfectly nice guy who was a bit of a flirt and happened to have a bad day when the first met at the docks. He asked for her opinion on the appetizer, asked if she wanted wine or a drink, joked that they could order an entire bottle, after all, everything in town was mostly within walking distance. He was the perfect gentleman, and Sansa started feeling sillier by the minute… what was she thinking, asking Arya to look him up? So what if he was a little arrogant, maybe she was confusing that with confidence. _“Sandor Clegane was confident”,_ she stopped herself there, not wanting to have a date with Harry and the ghost of Sandor Clegane. 

“So, Harry, what is it exactly that you do?”

Her little crush on Harry lasted until she finished her entree. Since their waitress introduced herself, Sansa thought that the young girl was smiling a bit too brightly at Harry, but she tried to brush it off; the man was kind of handsome. Then, she had caught him looking at the girl mischievously when he thought Sansa wasn’t looking and things started to crumble. The cherry on top came with dessert, a lemon tart to share, and Harry sharing more work stories, which he expertly linked to the new client he was pursuing, one of the minor divisions of the Stark cluster. He didn’t directly ask for anything. He didn’t drop names or hinted that he wanted an introduction, but the more he mentioned the company’s name, how remarkable that deal would be and how it would help his career, the more Sansa knew that maybe Harry did like her, but it wasn’t her what he was after.

He asked if she wanted to go for a walk after dinner, it was still early, and the sky was clear, it would have been quite romantic, but she declined. Soon she found herself being walked to the door, and when she turned to say goodnight, Harry was leaning in for a kiss. Years of avoiding Joffrey’s wormy lips paid off at that moment, as Sansa turned her head and took a kiss on the cheek, Harry laughed nervously, and she smiled back at him.

“You look too well rested to be worthy of that,” Randa said with a big smile and pointed at a big arrangement of daisies.

Rolling her eyes, Sansa walked to the flowers and took out the card; she couldn’t help but laugh out loud when she read it. Placing the card on top of the desk, Sansa pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. Randa’s smile transformed as Sansa threw the card at her desk, slowly walking away to her office. 

Sansa sat down at her desk, put her purse away and powered on her computer. While the system loaded, she typed down on her phone a new message to Harry.

Harry dearest, you must get a better secretary. S.

She quickly attached the last picture on her camera roll. 

_Sandra, last night was unforgettable, I hope to see you again on my next visit. H_

Smiling, Sansa hit the send button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wrote my favorite chapter in the entire story, one more and you'll get to see it!  
> Thank you all for the lovely comments and for reading.


	8. White Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was Jon, once more, who came to her rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always liked the relationship between Jon and Sansa, the idea of how they were forced to grow closer after so much tragedy. So here's a little attempt at that relationship.

Growing up, Sansa had been a child so full of herself that more than once her own sister had shouted to the four winds that she hated her. Looking back, Sansa couldn’t help but agree with Arya. She had been a conceited little girl who liked to think she could get away with anything, living under the impression that her good looks and reliable last name would get her through life, that sense of entitlement made her sick to her stomach when she thought about it now. The Sansa Stark that had begged for a sweet sixteen party and who had been over the moon at the prospect of being Joffrey Baratheon’s girlfriend had been vain and had her head full of songs and unrealistic dreams. That Sansa Stark had also been cruel in the way only children can be. 

Jon had been a part of her nuclear family for as long as she could remember. He was about a year younger than Robb, and the two of them had been thick as thieves. When Sansa was born and later started growing and wanting to hang out with them, the boys would push her away saying that their games were for grown men and not little girls. She couldn’t blame them though, she had always been prone to crying and easy to scare, and so when they did allow her to tag along to their adventures, she usually ruined it for them. However, while Robb had always been ready to yell at her for being too scared of going to the dark basement or too soft to catch a baseball, Jon had always been kind. He was ready to help her down the stairs or throw the ball softly at her, and she had paid him back by being jealous of his bond with her brother and accused him of treating her like a weak little thing, which she actually was.

Later, when she grew up and noticed that Jon didn’t look like her and Robb, she had asked daddy about it and, unknowingly, she had been given a terrible weapon which she would use to hurt the kindhearted boy. Daddy explained to her, as gently as he could, that Jon wasn’t her brother like Robb was, that he was her cousin and they had taken him in because Jon's mom had passed and his dad had walked away when he was very little. Years later, she would understand the phrase: knowledge is power, but as a child, Sansa had found the perfect way to torture the poor boy who had always been the first to come to her aid.

Things had changed when she was done with Joffrey, or rather, when Joffrey was done with her. She never did know how Robb found her at just the right time, and she never asked, but she did learn that Jon had helped Robb so much during that time. It had been Jon who then went to her apartment in King’s Landing and packed up the things she had left behind; he was the one to file the restraining order and deal with the Lannister threats when he vowed that if Joffrey ever got close to Sansa again, he’d make the case public. Then, when they lived at Gulltown together, before she messed up everything by going back to being a spoiled brat, he had made sure that she had a roof over her head, food in the fridge and that her car was up to date with the revisions and permits. Even after she had messed up and apologized, after he had moved away, he had always found a reason to visit just when her car was due to the mechanic, he’d have her oil changed and her breaks and engine checked. Jon Snow, though he didn’t share the Stark name, had been all that an older brother ought to be.

The day she got the news of Robb’s death was the same day she decided it was time for her to go back home. The phone call came in the middle of the night, the ring of her landline making chills run down her spine the second she opened her eyes. They said it was an accident; a car had rear-ended Robb so hard that his strong car had been pushed hard against the road bumpers and off the cliff. It would have been believable if the man driving the other car hadn’t been a Frey, whose reputation as the man the Lannisters used to do their dirty work was widely known. She jumped on a plan to the Westerlands, Jon picked her up from the airport, and together they dealt with all the paperwork, police and legal, that had to be seen to after Robb’s murder. Neither of them slept for days, the hotel room they shared acted like their headquarters, sleeping quarters and even sept. Once Sansa heard Jon trying to hold back a sob in the middle of the night, and her heart broke furthermore, she had lost her brother, but Jon had lost both a brother and a best friend.

Once everything was dealt with, when the Frey man was behind bars and all legal documents were sorted, they drove together behind the car which carried Robb’s body back North. Grief made them grow closer. During the long hours behind the wheel, most of them taken by Jon since Sansa couldn’t stop crying now that she had time to process her feelings, they talked about their childhood and other memories. As they entered Winter Town, Sansa placed a hand on Jon’s arm and tried to apologize, her cousin turned to look at her and told her that there was nothing to forgive, at that moment, she understood that Jon always had and would always be her brother too.

When everything calmed down, when Robb was buried, when each sibling picked a few items of his that they wanted to keep, when the rest of his things were donated, when mom and dad seemed to have no more tears to cry, when Arya stopped being angry, and Bran finally spoke again and Rickon managed to sleep through the night without a nightmare, Sansa told her parents that she’d be moving back home. It took her two weeks to sort everything back in Gulltown, for two weeks she all but lived in the office, setting everything in order and training Randa to take over, talking to the landlord to break her lease, selling the furniture she wouldn’t be taking with her. On her final day in Gulltown, Sansa walked across the street from the office to the docks, to the spot where she could swear she saw him and said goodbye to the shadow of the man she longed to see again. 

Her first month back home passed in a blur, between helping Randa with some small issues, trying to learn more about Direwolf Ltd and the division that Robb had been overseeing, Sansa seldom had time to worry about herself. Five weeks later, things started to quiet down. The young woman who had stepped in to fill Robb’s place was making great progress, dad was comfortable enough with her knowledge of the family business to stop double checking everything Sansa did, and Randa had managed to go a full week without calling her with an emergency. When she finally had time to herself, when Sansa finally found a Saturday morning in which she didn’t have to wake up early or go to work or have a video conference, she realised that she needed to get her own apartment.

Having lived by herself for almost four years, her family home felt very crowded: Jon had his own place, Arya had recently moved in with her boyfriend, by all means, she shouldn’t feel drowned in a house with two parents and two younger siblings, but she did. Mom and dad, bless their hearts, always worried about where she was or why she got home so late. Bran was like a cat, his presence was barely noticeable, but he was there, watching everything, appearing out of nowhere, something quite hard to do when he was in a wheelchair, but more than once she had tripped over him in the dark. Rickon was still a teenager, and he wanted to be independent, being the last out of five kids, he had been given permissions that none of the older kids had enjoyed and he exploited them to their limits.

It was Jon, once more, who came to her rescue. They had met for breakfast on a Wednesday morning just into her second month of living at home, and she had vented all her problems and frustrations. She had told him how she could no longer stand to be treated like a child, that she loved daddy but couldn’t see him so much, both at work and at home and that apparently it was mutual because she was sure to be getting on old Ned Stark’s nerves awfully easy lately. That same weekend, as they had their weekly lunch at home, Jon had casually brought up the subject of a new girlfriend and how he had seen some new apartments on his way to visit her.

The next day Sansa found herself driving to the new apartment complex in Winter Town, a twenty-minute drive from home, a ten-minute drive to work and a fifteen-minute walk away from downtown. She liked the way the building looked, liked the manager who showed her the apartments and its facilities. A bit embarrassed, she called Jon and asked him what questions she should make before applying, and he offered to drive up and walk her through it just like he had done back in the Vale. That day she learned that she should ask how old the pipes were, the central heating and air conditioning unit, the isolation and mold tests and so many other things, but most importantly, that day she met Ygritte and ended up making a new friend.

Her decision to move away surprised mom and relieved dad, they both told her that she didn’t need to, that she was always welcome in their home, but she knew that deep down they were both glad at the prospect of her moving out. Her application went through, and though she had to wait until the end of the month, soon Sansa was all set and almost ready to leave the nest for the third time. She busied her days off looking for furniture in antique stores, for rugs and lamps in thrift stores and garage sales, and she finally went to that storage unit she had and shifted through her things, deciding what would stay and what would go. When the big day came, she rented a moving truck, used her body abled brothers to load and unload it, had Jon build up her brand new bed and even enrolled Arya and Ygritte into helping her sort out the essential rooms in the house: the kitchen and the living room. She treated all of them to pizzas and beers, even Rickon, who she made promise not to tell mom and dad, and they watched a movie in her new TV.

Arya, Bran, and Rickon were the first to leave, teasing that Bran must have been exhausted after carrying so many boxes on his lap while pushing his wheelchair. Sansa hugged the three younger siblings and walked them to the family van, the only car in which Bran could ride comfortably. When she got back to her apartment, Ygritte was loading the dishwasher, but Jon was nowhere to be seen.

“He’ll be right back,” Ygritte said softly, “I think he forgot something in the car." 

Minutes later, as the dishwasher was running, Jon came into her apartment with a bouquet of white roses in a beautiful crystal vase. He smiled at her that same smile he had been giving her since they were kids, only that this time it didn’t anger her, it didn’t fill her heart with jealousy, it made her feel cherished and safe. 

“You used to say someday you’d move into a house as big as a castle and you’d have rosebushes in the garden and roses in every room of the house”, Jon said softly, almost embarrassed by the fact that he remembered her childhood nonsense, “It’s not a castle yet, but I figured you could have roses in at least one room of the house.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that I might have made a big mistake by creating so many expectations about Sandor's return... Well, guess who's coming back to Sansa's life on next chapter.


	9. In comes a storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day she overheard his name in the cafeteria, her world shattered. 
> 
> "The world could do without so many Cleganes", Sansa heard her say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically, I think of this as chapter 8.5 and it was one of my most favorite things to write. I'm honestly nervous that this chapter won't live up to the expectations but somewhere in me, this felt right.

The day she overheard his name in the cafeteria, her world shattered.

Brienne Tarth was a young PR representative, a tall blond woman with the sense of integrity that Ned and Catelyn Stark looked for in every department head. Catelyn had been the one to bring Brienne on board, they had met while she traveled to visit Robb in the West division, back then Brienne was just an intern, but mother had seen the potential in her and asked her to join the core division of Direwolf Ltd. Though Brienne was only a few years older than Sansa, the two ladies hadn’t had many chances to interact; so when Sansa overheard Brienne mentioning someone called Clegane, her heart skipped. Trying to act casual, Sansa greeted Brienne and her coworkers and asked if the seat beside them was taken, always gentle, Brienne invited her to join the group before continuing her story.

“Apparently after leaving the capital, he moved to the Saltpans. Two or three weeks ago there was a small note in the paper, a break and entering gone wrong, last I heard he was found by the paramedics, but no one has heard from him since that night. No mother, no father, Clegane is most likely dead; the world could do without so many Cleganes if you ask me.”

Suddenly losing her appetite, Sansa pretended to get an urgent phone call and left the room in haste, she made it to her office before closing the door behind her and sliding to the floor. 

_The world could do without so many Cleganes._

It couldn’t be him, right? But she had heard the faint whisper of his name, and if he had been living in the Saltpans, then it could have been him who she saw that day in the docks. The Hound… even in her dreams he had been the Hound. And now he was dead? It couldn’t be true; it just couldn't be. For the rest of the day, Sansa forwarded her calls and ignored her phone. She thought about calling Arya, not for the first time, and asking her to look him up but again she couldn’t bring herself to do it. What would she do if he was dead? Sandor Clegane couldn’t be dead.

She called into work the following day, asking for a personal day, and mourned for the man she had known in King’s Landing, the only man who had shown her kindness during that particularly hard period of her life, who had tried to give her a way out. She looked him up online but found no news of his death, no obituary, nothing. It felt wrong that the world would never know that he was gone, a man who has been misjudged his entire life because of his scars, a man who had last been associated with the Lannisters and therefore had a ruined reputation. She regretted not reaching out when she imagined him at the Vale, when she first dreamed of him or when she moved back home. She regretted never asking him questions about himself, never getting to know him beyond the mask he wore and only took off on rare occasions and for brief moments of times. She mourned him for a day, crying until her head hurt as much as her heart did and then, when the sun went down, and it was pitch dark in her tiny apartment, Sansa washed her face, drank some water and went to sleep.

The next day she went back to her usual routine: work, gym, home. She started going out with Arya for drinks, hanging out with Bran when she visited home and even found the time to attend Rickon’s soccer games; she found ways to stay busy and avoid men, and it all worked out well for a month or so. Until one night, she dreamed about him again, only that time she could clearly see his face and scars, she could hear his raspy voice, feel his eyes on her, smell that scent that had lingered in her soul that one time he lent her a jacket. If she was supposed to feel weirded out by her dreams, she didn’t; on the contrary, they were quite reassuring. In her dreams, he smiled at her, laughed at her jokes and cared for her like Joffrey never did. In her dreams, he kissed her, and she kissed him back, she had dreamt about kissing him so many times, in such vivid ways, that she started wondering if maybe they really had kissed. Perhaps it happened when she was drunk at a party, perhaps it happened when they were both drunk, but it must have happened because those dreams felt so vivid they could only be a memory.

* * *

There were to be two celebrations for Arya’s twenty-third name day. The first one, on her actual name day, would be a barbecue with the family, the first one without Robb, the first one with Ygritte. She proved to be a good sport, a nice distraction to keep everyone busy and happy and only once did Robb come up in the conversation but his name was no longer a whisper filled with grieve but a soft memory of childhood play and admiration and love of a firstborn son. The second party was the day after, a Friday night dedicated to getting a thoughtfully planned bar crawl which would start around ten and finish when the first guest lost consciousness. In truth Sansa didn’t feel like going, she had never been one to drink into stupor, as a matter of fact, she had probably been drunk only once or twice in her life, the first time because of Joffrey and the second one to spite him. She liked her wine, but she liked taking her time to enjoy it, and the selection that was usually offered in bars wasn’t really her thing, especially once she received the email with the list of places they’d be hitting. Still, it was her baby sister’s party, and they were finally getting close, she wouldn’t jeopardize their relationship for yet another quiet night at home.

The bars and pubs in Winter Town were all conveniently located nearby; it was a long street not too far away from the main square which was closed on weekend nights making it was easy to jump from one place to another. Arya had complained when Sansa volunteered to be the designated driver, arguing that they never had fun anymore, that the point to a night crawl was to get hammered and be somewhat irresponsible and that they could all take cabs home. At the end they settled on Sansa being the designated driver but, if she for some reason decided to let loose and have fun for once in her life, she’d just leave the car and jump in a cab with the rest of them. At 10 pm on the clock, Sansa pulled into the main square and parked her car, already seeing the outline of her sister gathered by a fountain with a group of young men.

“Hey guys”, Sansa said as she approached the interesting looking group of people around her sister.

“Hey sis, these nice fellows are Loomy, Hot Pie, Gendry, and well, you remember Mycah, right?”

Sansa smiled at the group of boys who stood protectively around her sister, well, most of them. The one named Loomy looked thin and scrawny, his dirty blond hair and the unflattering lighting of the street made him look almost sick. He was jumpy and twitching, and Sansa wondered what drugs the boy had done before coming.

“Of course I remember Mycah,” Sansa said with a smile as she walked towards the red-haired boy and gave him a quick hug. He was the town butcher’s boy, well, he was the town butcher now. He and Arya had run all over Winter Town when they were little, picking at each other pointy sticks and pretending to be knights. Her eyes then went to the tall, lean boy who seemed to be standing a little too close to Arya, brown hair and blue eyes, a stubble that covered his angular face, he looked older too, older than her, maybe same age as Jon.

“Stop staring at my sister, Hot Pie,” Arya said and broke the building tension, “Gods, one would think you’ve never seen a woman before.”

“How are you two related?!”, the boy who answered to Hot Pie said and immediately looked like he regretted every single word he said.

Sansa looked from Hot Pie to Arya, and back to Gendry, the older boy was smiling down at her sister, small dimples showing in his face and when he caught Arya’s eyes, she smiled too. Sansa liked him, she decided, she liked anyone who made Arya smile. Before Arya could further embarrass her friend, Sansa saw Jon and Ygritte walking up to them, along with a tall figure who she couldn't make out from afar, once they got closer, Sansa’s heart skipped a beat.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Brienne,” Sansa said as they watched the threesome getting closer.

“We work out together; she’s cool in her own way.”

They hit the first bar around 10:30 pm, the music wasn’t too loud, and it gave the group a chance to get to know each other better. Sansa sat next to Brienne, who apparently wasn’t very fond of drinking either, and decided to forget about that day in the cafeteria and make an effort to know her better. Sitting in a dark bar, she learned that Brienne too had lost her siblings, that her father was sailboats aficionado and that she had learned to swim before really knowing how to walk. In return, Sansa told her about living in the Vale and a few things about living in King’s Landing; when she casually mentioned her dislike of the Lannister family, Brienne’s eyes grew, and a blush crept over her face as she asked about Jaime Lannister. Sansa shrugged, Jaime Lannister had never mistreated her, but he had never done anything to protect her either, not like Tyrion Lannister. Anyway, he had been abroad when things were bad, so her only opinion of the golden man was that he was good looking but not to trust. It was strange, but Sansa could almost hear Brienne saying that there was more to Jaime Lannister than what met the eye, she was about to ask Brienne what she meant when Arya announced it was time to move on.

By midnight, they were entering their third bar, and Sansa noticed that Arya was once more scanning the room just as they got in.

“Are you looking for someone?”, Sansa asked as they walked to an empty booth, Gendry close behind the girls while Hot Pie and Mycah went to get everyone a round of shots, sometime during the night, Loomy had taken off.

“Maybe,” Arya replied.

The music was louder in this bar, the beat faster and people were dancing. A very drunk Ygritte took a shot and pulled Jon to his feet, dragging him behind her as she walked to the dance floor. The group cheered as he went and Sansa couldn’t help but laugh out loud as she saw her somber brother trying to keep up with the rhythm. She thought of all those many years ago when she had taught him and Robb how to dance, how they had been uncomfortable placing their hands on her waist, how they had told her they looked stupid moving to the beat. As their laughter quieted down, Arya turned to look at Gendry, and the older boy seemed to pale, she didn’t give him a chance though, as she whispered something in his ear before climbing over him and getting out of the booth; silently, Gendry followed her. 

“So it’s just us, ladies,” Mycah said with laughter still in his voice.

“Why don’t you go and dance, Sansa, I’ll keep an eye on the things”, Brienne volunteered before Sansa could even say a word. It was a rare sight, Brienne smiling and not being so uptight as she usually was in the office. The smile on her face encouraged Sansa to have fun, and before she knew it, she was standing up, brushing the tip of her finger under Hot Pie’s chin and asking him to lead her to the dance floor.

Sansa couldn't remember the last time she danced so freely, the last time it felt so good to close her eyes and move without caring what anyone else in the room thought about her. She danced to one song and then another and then a third one, she danced with Hot Pie, who seemed to have just one move for everything but he was nice and that made her not care. She danced with Jon, who was getting tipsy and lose, allowing his movements to be more fluid as he spun her around and smiled at her. She danced with Arya, as they trapped Gendry between their arms and went lower and lower while he stood awkwardly in his place. Dancing felt good, so good that she considered maybe forgetting about being the designated driver, she could get a beer or a margarita and still be good to drive, the night was young after all, and so were them. Smiling at Hot Pie, they started going back to their table making easy conversation when she felt someone watching her and then the whole world seemed to freeze.

Sitting in their booth, casually talking to Brienne, was Sandor Clegane. Not even the hundreds of nights she had dreamed of him could have prepared her for the tornado of emotions that rose in her when his gray eyes looked straight into her blue ones. He looked strong, leaner than the last time she saw him, his brown hair slightly wavier than she could remember and still shoulder length, his beard was full, and even in the dim lighting, Sansa could see a few gray hairs showing. Even sitting he was taller than Brienne, the weak smile that had been on his lips when she first saw him had vanished, and for a second she felt jealous because she couldn’t quite remember if she had ever seen him smile; if she had made him laugh as Brienne apparently did. But her jealousy was short-lived, suddenly overtaken by confusion. Was this all an accident? How was it that he knew Brienne, liked Brienne, hadn't she mentioned that the Hound could be dead? Before Sansa could open her mouth, Arya came from behind her, all smiles and big attitude.

“You are shit at punctuality”, Arya said as she sat across from Sandor Clegane. When had those two met?

“I figured I’d show up once you were plastered, say hi and leave, don’t need to be taking care of you again.”

 _Again?_ Sansa asked herself. Things went a bit back to normal when Hot Pie got nervous at the sight of the Hound, at least someone was reacting with normality, but said normality didn’t last long as Jon greeted Clegane as if they had known each other in another life and fell out of contact. Confused, Sansa took a step back and stumbled, suddenly the room was too loud, too dark, too crowded, excusing herself she said she needed to get some air. She was leaning against the bar wall when the door opened and out walked Sandor Clegane. He looked at her and gave her that stupid little smirk she had seen so often, the one that dripped with sarcasm and unspoken insults.

“Still can’t look me in the eye, girl?” the Hound asked as he stepped towards her, seeing him standing up to his full height should have intimidated her but it didn’t.

“I thought you were dead!”, Sansa said forcefully, her voice catching in her throat, her body stepping closer to his as she looked straight into his eyes, just as he had requested. Her blood was rising, the confusion replaced by anger.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Little Bird”

 _Little Bird… not even in your dreams did he call you Little bird_ , a tiny voice whispered in her head. His usually sarcastic voice was plain, almost as if he really were sorry about being alive.

“I mourned for you,” she confessed without really knowing why.

She half expected him to laugh, to mock her and call her stupid, but he didn’t, he remained quiet and that unsettled her more. Just as she was about to open her mouth, the sound of the door alerted them and out came Arya, Jon and the rest of them. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Arya said it was time to hit another bar and started leading the way, the alcohol preventing her from reading too much into the situation they had clearly interrupted. Silently, they let Arya lead the group and followed behind them, their hands brushed against each other, and at that moment Sansa decided that her car had insurance for a reason, she was getting plastered.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely people who are still reading this, please let me know what you think!  
> Thank you all for your continuous support, from now on, it's SanSan all the way.


	10. Winter Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you really mourn for me, Little Bird?” Sandor asked out of the blue, his gray eyes looking straight into hers, a serious expression on his face that lacked any cynicism. 
> 
> “How could I not?”, she replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments on the last chapter! Here's a bit more SanSan fluff, I hope you enjoy it.

In all honesty, Sansa could only remember bits and pieces of the last of Arya’s bar crawl, everything until walking through the doors of the fourth bar was crystal clear, as was her memory of first seeing Sandor Clegane again, but after that things got fuzzy. She remembered Arya smiling when Sansa showed up with a round of shots for everyone and then laughing when Jon’s face fell when a waitress showed up with another round and said that they were expecting them since Arya had emailed them about the bar crawl. Sansa remembered dancing freely; dancing to forget that he was sitting there, talking to Brienne as if they were old friends. She recalled that little bug of jealousy picking at her when he made Brienne laugh, she remembered going over to their table, taking Brienne by the hand and pulling her to the dance floor, leaving Sandor alone at the table. She remembered Brienne’s awkward dance moves, which improved a little with more alcohol, and the feeling of Sandor Clegane’s eyes burning on her skin now and then. At their fifth bar, things started to wind down; surprisingly, it was Mycah who said he couldn’t take another ounce of alcohol, he had looked pleadingly at Hot Pie, and the baker said they’d be heading off. At the sound of that, Jon and Ygritte took it as an excuse to bolt too, and that was the end of the party. They called for three cabs and went outside to wait for them. 

“Gendry and I are going to have a private after-party,” Arya announced with a grin that left no doubt as to what kind of after-party they’d be having, Jon tried to give Gendry a stern look but failed miserably.

“You better take care of my sister”, Jon warned, “Okay, I’m taking the girls home and then you two are good?” he asked Hot Pie and Mycah, “Clegane, need a ride?”

“My car is parked a few blocks away,” the Hound said nonchalantly, “I’ll see you off first,” he added, and Sansa swore he said that directly to her.

It was cold outside, colder than she cared for in her trendy but light denim jacket. Sansa was rubbing her arms when she felt the warmth of a proper coat being draped around her shoulders, it was big, so big, and she turned to look at Brienne, but she was hugging a lamp post and had her own jacket around her shoulders. She turned to look at him then, his lumbering figure standing a few steps away from her, eyes taking in the surroundings as if looking out for anything out of the ordinary. His jacket around her brought back memories of that night when she couldn’t remember if they kissed or not. He had wrapped his jacket around her that night as well, drove her home and saw her through the door; that was before she moved in with Joffrey, she had kept his jacket for two weeks before giving it back.

She remembered a hushed conversation as they waited outside. She remembered asking Sandor not to leave again, and him telling her that he wasn't planning on going anywhere. She remembered wanting to kiss him and either she tried and failed, or she never moved because her memory skipped from the sidewalk to the cab ride, leaning into Brienne’s shoulder as the streets passed by and then she remembered falling into a sofa and darkness taking over her in the form of sleep. When she woke up, last night’s make up still on her face and a pounding headache, she realized two things, first, that she was at Jon and Ygritte’s place, and second, that she still had Sandor's jacket.

Sansa let the days slip by, day after day she told herself that she’d approach Brienne or Arya and ask for Sandor’s number, she had his jacket, and she had to give it back, so why was she getting all worked up about asking for his phone? It wouldn’t be like the last time she had called him only to find out that the number was disconnected and have her heart break a little. No, she had seen him not even a week ago, seen him in the flesh and not just in her dreams for that matter.

On Friday afternoon she walked to Brienne’s office, ever since they had seen each other plastered they had become a bit closer, which was nice because the other option was that things would turn weird and Sansa had enough weird in her life. Just as she was about to ask for the number, she chickened out; she was pretty sure Brienne and Sandor were just friends, but still, she couldn’t shake off the feeling that Brienne had sounded happy at the news of a Clegane dead. Taking a deep breath, Sansa did something she should have done months ago and asked about the conversation she overheard in the cafeteria.

Brienne told her everything, how she had known Sandor years ago when she was keeping track on Arya while she was in training, how she too thought that Sandor was dead up until a few weeks earlier when Arya told her she’d invite a guy she used to know called the Hound. Brienne told Sansa that the news she had heard were related to Gregor Clegane and that she was glad that it was him who was dead because the world really was a better place without that particular Clegane in it. A bit overwhelmed, Sansa thanked Brienne for her honesty and asked if she could have Sandor’s number, she had yet another jacket to give back.

* * *

“I didn’t think you’d show up,” Sansa said, and hoped that her voice hadn’t come out as shaky as she thought it did. 

“I had to make sure you were the one behind all those hang up phone calls,” Sandor said as he sat down and picked up the laminated menu before him.

Sansa hadn’t had the nerve to actually call him. She had tried, for hours she tried to press the dial button on her screen, but she always managed to lose her nerve. Once or twice, or maybe more than once or twice, she had pressed dial only to get scared and quickly hung up, apparently, she hadn’t been as quick as she thought. Still, on Friday night she managed to send him a text asking if they could meet for lunch, she fell asleep fitfully, and when she woke up, she saw he had replied with a plain OK. Now there they were, sitting on a table because she knew he hated booths, in the middle of the diner where Hot Pie worked, with Sandor’s jacket draped beneath hers on one of the free chairs and Sansa at a complete loss of words.

“Did you really mourn for me, Little Bird?”, Sandor asked out of the blue, his gray eyes looking straight into hers, a serious expression on his face that lacked any cynicism.

“How could I not?”, she replied before setting her eyes back on the menu.

They fell into a comfortable silence, both of them obviously had so many questions, but they didn’t know how to begin. Tentatively, Sansa ventured to ask the first question just as the waitress took their orders, she figured that asking how he ended up in the North when he was a Western man would be simple enough, but apparently, it wasn’t. At first, he gave her the short answer, the practiced speech he might give the few people he would bother to answer to. He got tired of King’s Landing, tired of dealing with Joffrey Baratheon and his shit family and since he owed them nothing, decided to leave. He bounced around, did a couple of odd jobs and fate finally caught up with him because he was in the wrong place in the wrong time and almost died, but he didn’t, and a year later there he was, up North. After Sandor’s story, Sansa had more questions than answers, and he could tell because he gave her a half smile and dug into his burger, challenging her to say something.

“I have so many questions,” Sansa mumbled as she pushed around a piece of grilled chicken, looking up, she breathed in, she was a Stark, she was a wolf, and wolves weren’t afraid of dogs, were they? “How long do you have?”

Sandor shrugged, he had never been shy to voice his opinions so Sansa figured that a shrug was as close as she would get to a green light. Feeling brave, she stole a french fry from his plate, when he growled at her, she took another one and gave him one of her onion rings.

“So, what kind of jobs did you do? And how is it that you know Arya and Brienne?”

“That’s classified,” his deep voice replied as he picked up the onion ring and inspected it in great detail.

“You know, I never did know what exactly you did for a living,” Sansa said with a smile.

“That’s also classified,” he replied before placing the whole onion ring in his mouth.

Saturday lunch led to coffee on Monday, and coffee on Monday led to a quick lunch on Wednesday. He had been good, answered every question she had as best as he could, drove to wherever she wanted to meet under the excuse of being relatively new in town and not knowing what to do or where to go. And when the last of her salad was gone on Wednesday, when her phone buzzed with a reminder that she had a meeting in twenty minutes, Sansa felt lost because she had nothing left to ask and no excuse to see him again. Ever since he came back into her life, since he all but came back from death, he had also found a way to go back into her dreams. Looking at him, silently praying to the gods she no longer believed in to throw her a lifeline, Sansa stood up and picked up her tray.

“I’ll take care of that,” Sandor offered as he stood as well. He glanced around the room full of people in suits and dress pants and then back at Sansa, “There’s this sign on my way to work that says the museum will be having an exhibit on the big wars on Westeros, you used to like history, I believe, do you maybe want to go with me? Say, Saturday?”

She didn’t know if it was a date, he hadn’t said anything when she agreed, just asked for her address and if 3 pm would work for her. He picked her up, drove to the museum, and when she went to the admissions line he already had tickets, she offered to pay him back, but he declined. As they walked in Sansa took a small map, in it, he circled three things he wanted to see but let her pick the route and listened to all her commentaries and waited for her to look around at her hearts content. Almost four hours later, he asked if she was hungry and they ended up in a little pizza place, sharing a pie and a couple of sodas, which he paid for when she went to the ladies room. He drove back to her place, parked the car and walked her to the door, leaving after she had closed and locked it behind her. She didn’t know if it was a date, but if it wasn’t, it was the best non-date of her life. 

The exhibition at the museum lead to other activities, sometimes he asked her out, most of the times she did the asking. Whenever they needed tickets he always got them, whenever they wanted coffee, she paid for it. He would always pick her up, except for the one time his car broke down, and she was more than happy to get him, enjoying the chance to see where he lived. Little by little she had been able to uncover the mysterious man that Sandor Clegane was. He owned a small company in security, specifically in a company that did both of premises and cyber. He met Arya because of work and then he met Brienne, he said he met Jon while assessing some risks for the police department and had actually been in conversations with her father regarding maybe employing him for Direwolf. In the past, whenever someone mentioned the possibility of working with her family’s company it was usually followed by a request to put in a good word for them, but Sandor didn’t do that, he just moved on from the matter, and she knew that he’d mentioned it only because she had asked.

As much as she liked hearing about him, Sansa also found she enjoyed sharing things of her life with him. In Sandor, Sansa found a friend who could understand the darkest episodes of her life, someone who wouldn’t judge her actions or mistakes, and later she would realize that she had found someone who actually paid attention. He listened when she talked about her favorite movie, and asked why she liked it so much. He listened when she got excited about something that happened at work and she wanted to share how she had added to it. He listened as she explained thoughtfully how eating ice cream during the winter was better than eating ice cream during the summer and then listened when she told him about the time she got her tonsils removed and had her dad driving up and down town on a quest for lemon sorbet.

Time seemed to fly by and suddenly nine months had gone by and her name day was nearing. For nine months she had been part of a weird dance with the Hound. A dance in which they went out and had dinner, and watched movies at the cinema or at her place. A dance in which he’d invite her over to watch some fancy sports event that she care for, but she’d still go because he asked. A dance in which he would listen to her talk about her favorite books and even went as far as buying some to give them a shot.

Arya had been the first one to ask her about the Hound. She had heard from Brienne that Sansa had asked for his number and she wanted to know what was going on; ever since Joffrey, Arya had been fiercely protective of her and, apparently, she was on the fence about Sandor Clegane. The second to ask had been, surprisingly, Brienne, but she had waited until a few months had gone by, after she had bumped into the Hound one too many times in the company’s cafeteria for it to be strictly business related. The questions stopped for a while, though Jon did seem to look at her a little funny in every reunion, the unasked question always in the tip of his tongue but never managed to leave his lips. It was finally when her dad asked her if there was something going on with Sandor Clegane that she had to admit that she didn’t know.

Ned Stark had never been one to meddle too much into his kids lives. He intervened when they were being stupid or in danger, but then he stood by the sidelines, hoping and praying to the old gods that the teachings he had tried to impart during their childhoods had stuck with them. So when dad asked if she had a few minutes and called her into his office and mentioned Sandor, Sansa’s heart first leaped and then fell. He must have noticed the change in her emotions because he went on to say how he had been meeting with Sandor Clegane for a few weeks and discussing a few upgrades he could bring to first to the Security and IT departments at Direwolf HQ. He said that depending on the process and results; they could implement those into the rest of offices and divisions. Sansa said she had nothing but respect towards Sandor, that he was so much more than his last name and that she’d never heard of anyone being dissatisfied with his work. Ned nodded at her, she got up to leave, but just as she was about to exit the office, he used his dad voice and asked if everything was okay or there was anything she wanted to say. Smiling, she told him everything was fine.

Sansa figured that if Sandor asked her out for a name day celebration, then it would mean that they had something other than just a friendship going on, after all, she hadn’t mentioned her name day in their many conversations so if he knew it must have been because he cared. Her name day was the following Saturday, and they went to the movies on Sunday, but he didn’t ask a thing, Sansa thought that maybe it slipped his mind, it had been his turn to pick the movie after all. She waited for his call but Monday went by and then Tuesday, so she figured he was trying to play it cool. Then, on Wednesday night, he called. He said something about an emergency and that he would have to be gone for about a week, then he got technical and lost her. Sansa tried to dismiss him by saying that it was okay, that she was drowning in work and she’d spend the weekend at her parents’ home. She had been waiting for him to ask why she’d spend the weekend at Winterfell but he didn’t, he simply told her to be safe and not work too hard before hanging up.

She decided to go home on Friday after work, the idea of driving back to her apartment for the night and then having to drive all the way home somehow discouraging, lately, her apartment felt as empty as she did and she didn’t like it. After dinner on Friday, she warned everybody to please let her sleep in, it would be her name day after all, and since everybody was getting older, she figured that it wouldn’t be too much to ask for a little peace and quiet. She went to her childhood bedroom, the one she used to share with Arya, and looked at her little sister’s empty bed. For a second she missed having the little weasel home but then she remembered how Arya would snore and wake up in the middle of the night to use the restroom, leaving the door open and letting the light hit her right on the face, and she didn’t miss her that much. Tired, a little sad and with little expectations of how she’d be beginning her twenty-fifth year on earth, Sansa turned in for the night.

The smell of her mother’s coffee tickled her senses and the sound of the kitchen coming alive, pans and spatulas and quiet laughter, finally made her get out of bed. Looking at her phone she saw no lost calls but that at least it was past 9 am, her family had done their best to let her sleep in. Wrapping a robe tightly around her, Sansa walked down the stairs with a smile on her face. The first thing that caught her eye was that everybody was looking at her as she entered the kitchen: her mom and dad, Bran and Rickon, Sansa turned around, waiting for Arya to jump out of nowhere and scare the hell out of her but nothing happened. Then her mom stepped forwards and looked towards the French doors that led to the garden, and her eye caught sight of it.

Standing on the kitchen counter was a small cylinder box that contained 18 Winter Roses. Sansa walked towards them and reached out to touch the box that so white against the blue rose petals. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the card popping from the arrangement, she wished for them to be his and bit her lower lip as she opened the card.

_It only makes sense; an exotic little bird must have exotic tastes._

_Happy name day Little Bird._

She left a soft chuckle out before pressing the card to her chest. Apparently, her mom had been anxiously waiting for Sansa to come down because a second later she was beside Sansa, excitingly asking questions. Sansa couldn't help but notice how different this whole scene was from the last time she got roses at her childhood home. She looked at her dad, a soft smile graced his usually serious features and Sansa let a sigh out.

“When did they arrive, mom?” Sansa asked as she tried to turn around but she simply couldn’t stop staring at the roses.

“About an hour ago, who sent them? How did they get blue roses?”

“Not blue,” Ned interrupted, “Those look like Winter Roses, they can be hard to find,” he added with a small smirk, and Sansa wondered if daddy already knew who the sender was. 

“He listened, mom,” Sansa explained, “He listened when I talked.”

Still smiling, Sansa pulled her phone out of the robe’s pocket and walked to the garden, the chilly winter air felt purifying as she waited for Sandor to pick up the phone. She smiled further, thinking how he always picked up when she called.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Sandor asked when he answered.

“I wanted to thank you,” Sansa said softly into the phone, she felt younger, so much younger, sneaking out of the house to talk to a boy.

“I’m glad you liked them,” Sandor said, he sounded a little nervous, which only made Sansa’s heart beat faster and confirm that she was in over her head. “What is it, Sansa, come on, out with it, girl,” he added after about a minute of silence.

“Sandor,” she said nervously, “What are we? Are we friends? Are we…”

“We’ll be whatever you want us to be, Little bird,” he interrupted before she could continue and for once Sansa was happy to be interrupted, “I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give, for as long as you’re willing to give. But I do want to warn you upfront; I’m a jerk, I am rude, and I curse a lot. I work too hard, can’t handle small talk, I have horrible scars that you’ve seen and worst scars that you haven’t… but I would never hurt you, and I want you to be happy.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know, Clegane,” Sansa said smiling into the phone. For a moment she wished she had waited and asked him in person, that way she would have been able to look at him as he said he wanted her to be happy, that way she might have been able to kiss him.

“I’ll be home on Sunday night” Sandor replied, “How about we go out for dinner?”

 


	11. 12 Red Roses?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor Clegane was a man with strong set opinions, which were mostly not negotiable, for example, his opinion on Valentine's day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, sorry for the long wait!

Dating Sandor Clegane was unlike anything she could have ever imagined, mainly because he didn’t know they were dating for the first month of their relationship.

After her name day dinner, for one reason or another, they had stopped seeing each other so much. Sandor was still dealing with the complications that had lured him out of town, and Sansa was dealing with some on-site problem of their latest mining location. In the following two weeks they saw each other only twice, and when things slowed down and started going back to normal, Ned Stark called Sandor and began negotiations for their pilot project. 

Although they were both busy, he always found time to talk to her, ask if she got home okay or called her if he had a minute to spare in the afternoons. He replied to her texts even when he hated texting because his fingers were too big for the tiny screen and his messages ended up looking like an alien language half of the time. Sansa laughed whenever he sent a text and his autocorrect switched ‘fuck’ to ‘duck,’ she had lost count of how many duck messages Sandor had sent her. He made her feel important and cared for, and so, when Sansa saw him walking around the Direwolf premises with a guest lanyard around his neck, she couldn’t help but smile and call for him. 

“Hey stranger,” she said as she approached him, it was a beautiful day out, the sun shining and warming the air a bit, a few people were having lunch outdoors or working on their laptops. 

“Hey,” he replied softly and stopped in his place.

He didn’t exactly smile at her, but Sansa was quickly learning that his eyes could give him away, and his eyes were saying that he was glad to see her. Without thinking, Sansa stepped closer to him, placed one hand softly on his waist and pressed a soft kiss to his bearded cheek. When she stepped down, bright smile still on her face, she saw that Sandor was frozen to his place, the shine in his eyes no longer present.

“What’s wrong?” She asked worried, she had kissed him on the cheek a few times, and he had always seemed glad about it. She had kissed him on the cheek when she was dying to kiss his lips, but she was giving him time, thinking he wanted to take things slow. 

“Why did you do that?”, he asked, his voice plain and low.

“To say hi to my boyfriend?”, Sansa said suddenly feeling shy and exposed. 

“Boyfriend?”, Sandor asked probably as confused and shy as Sansa was feeling, “Sansa, when did…”

“On my name day… you said you’d be whatever I wanted us to be.”

“I was pretty sure you might want something beyond friendship, Sansa, I thought you wanted to take it slow, I would have asked if I knew you were ready,” Sandor said shyly and looked around, thankfully no one seemed to be looking at them.

“I just assumed that… Oh, gods, this is so embarrassing.” 

“A girl like you shouldn’t need to assume anything,” Sandor said, “let me take you out to dinner, ask you properly and if you want a relationship we can have one, this time maybe one in which we are both aware of it?”, he added with a soft smile.

That night he took her out to dinner, opened doors for her and listened as she told him how she thought he was the one who wanted to take things slow. He asked her what she wanted for dessert, let her order the lemon cake that had been calling her name since she first got the menu and even let her have some of his. As they finished the last of dessert, he looked at her and asked her to be his girlfriend, she promptly agreed. As he drove back to her place, he took her hand in his, only letting go when he left the car to walk her to the door. That night, as she rested against the doorframe, he kissed her for the first time, his lips were soft and partly rugged, his beard tickled, and he tasted like lemons. Sandor's hand cupped her face perfectly, and Sansa felt like she was melting. Before she could deepen the kiss, he broke apart, smiled at her and said good night, waiting for her to close the door before walking away. 

As sweet as their first kiss had been, Sansa soon discovered that he had been right with his little disclaimer, not that she wasn’t already aware of it, but being closer now, she started noticing the little things. Yes, he could be a jerk, he sure was one towards the poor boy who stared too hard at his face in the bookstore. He did work a lot; she found out through Brienne that Sandor had the habit of working well into the wee hours of the morning even after their dates. As they grew more accustomed to each others presence and the need to impress one another went down, it became a common thing for Sandor to work on his laptop while Sansa binged one of her guilty pleasures. He had warned her about the scars, the ones in his face she was already used to and though she couldn’t help but see them every day, she no longer cared about them because they were just another part of his face, like his nose or his eyes. As for the scars she couldn’t see, those proved to be a little bit trickier to like. For someone so big and strong, Sandor was very self-conscious and, at times, a bit insecure. It hurt her that her boyfriend seemed to be able to open up more to Brienne or Arya than to her. However, when she asked him why he looked at her and said that he wanted to protect her from his past; when she said she didn’t need any protection from him, he promised to try to let her into his past. 

But just as he had lived up to every negative trait he had warned her against, he had also lived up to the unspoken promise of never hurting her, of trying to make her happy.

Sansa knew that she shouldn’t compare, she knew that Sandor was a different kind of man, but she couldn't help but contrast him with the other men in her life. Not even when she had seen him at his angriest, when he had been fuming so bad that she remembered how he used to scare her back in King’s Landing, had she feared that he would strike her as Joffrey did. When she had to work late or sit through endless dinners with business partners, he had never said a thing about it. He only asked her to let him know if she needed to be picked up or felt uncomfortable, he had been respectful of her space even in the office, something she was both grateful for and at the same time made her angry. And when she told him that she might need to take things slow in the physical aspect, he had been fine with that, he didn’t push the subject or asked why, he simply agreed to it because he cared about her, he did really want her to be happy.

There was only one thing that Sandor didn’t warn her against, and that in retrospect, she should have already known: Sandor Clegane was not one for grand romantic gestures or public displays of affection. He was a man with strong set opinions, which were mostly not negotiable.

Sandor found it disgusting when couples kissed in public, felt that it was a sorry cry for attention, an attempt to display how happy they were when no one knew what happened behind closed doors. He found romantic comedies dumb, arguing that every single movie had the same elements and story; when Sansa claimed that every war movie also had the same elements and stories, he had tried convincing her otherwise but in the end gave up. He also had a strong opinion about shopping, he hated it with a passion, but when Sansa asked if he’d go to the mall with her, he agreed and said that he liker her more than he hated shopping.

Her heart had been soaring from the moment he said those words. She was so happy that she even gathered the nerve to ask him if maybe, just maybe, they could look for a couple of things for him as well. With his typical shrug, Sandor agreed to be her puppet and said that she could help him pick new jeans, two t-shirts and a button down. With a list in mind, Sansa took his hand and pulled him through rows and rows of clothing in different stores, she enjoyed it more than she thought she would and he suffered silently, not complaining even once. She pushed him into dressing rooms, waited and made him step out so she could see how things fit. They got into a debate on skinny jeans, him saying that he was no pansy and his body was not built for skinny jeans, Sansa saying that he was fit enough to pull them off, in the end, they settled for a slim cut. When he told her that he usually got his t-shirts at the supermarket clothing section, she drowned a gasp, another pointless discussion followed, and Sansa won once again. By the time they reached the button downs, Sandor was tired and more than ready to go home, he wanted food and his couch and maybe watch a movie in the peace of his living room. Trying to get his torture to an end, Sandor tried a shirt he hadn't particularly liked but knew Sansa did; the look in her eyes when he stepped out was all he needed, he didn’t even try the other ones before walking to the cashier.

Carrying more bags than he cared for, three his and five hers, they started walking back to the car. They were almost there when Sansa saw a big heart-shaped sign in a jewelry store, Valentine’s Day was coming, and she wondered for a minute if she should get Sandor something. They were still taking things slow, had been dating for three months but other than holding hands and a few chaste and not so chaste kisses, their relationship was still pretty similar to what it used to be before he sent her Winter roses. Catching a sight of the big heart sign, Sandor puffed loudly, oh yes, Sandor Clegane had a very strong opinion on Valentine’s Day too. He thought it was a made-up holiday to promote consumerism, that the frivolous act of buying overpriced candy and roses was disgusting and that if there were movements who defended animal rights, there should also be a movement to protect flowers from being massively murdered for a fake holiday. Sandor had been so fiercely defending his opinion on Valentine’s day that Sansa hadn’t even tried to make a point on how the holiday could mean so much more. Apparently, he didn’t pick up how her heart sank for the rest of the evening. 

Days quickly turned into weeks, and the next thing Sansa knew was that Valentine’s day had arrived. She woke up that day feeling down, up until Joffrey, she had loved Valentine’s day, but after hearing Sandor complain so much about the holiday, she just wanted to get through it as quickly as possible. She was not a masochist, but she couldn’t help but open different social media platforms as she had breakfast, the first picture she saw filled her heart with happiness. After weeks of trying to teach mom how to post photos on Instagram, she had finally managed to do it, and her first picture was none other than one of Ned Stark in his pajamas holding out a bouquet of red roses for the camera. Sansa liked the picture and wrote a comment wishing her parents a happy Valentine’s day before deciding to make the most of today even if her boyfriend was a sour man who hated holidays.

Her good will, however, was short-lived. Human Resources made a fine job of decorating the public areas; heart-shaped cut-offs in the walls and bowls filled with pink and red candy in the waiting areas. Everyone who walked past her had a smile on their face and wished her a happy Valentine’s day. Hurrying up, she walked into her office and closed the door, something she almost never did, in an attempt to shut off the outside world. The morning slipped by swiftly, she skipped the cafeteria and instead ate a sandwich in her office while watching cat and puppy videos to cheer her up. When she crossed the premises to attend a meeting, she counted three delivery men leaving different sort of flowers and at least four men whispering softly into their phones. Rolling her eyes, she clutched her files closer to her chest.

The meeting was productive, or as productive as it could be when she was distracted by the memory of her mother’s picture every time she saw her father. Why couldn’t all men just go with it and embrace the idea of Valentine’s day? When the meeting was wrapped, she quickly left the room to avoid her father, who would most likely ask why she was in such a sour mood when she loved the holiday. She didn’t want to explain the situation to him because while they knew about her and Sandor, they had never talked about it. Making a quick detour, Sansa decided to pay Brienne a visit, if there was somewhere in Direwolf HQ who could relate to her feelings it must have been Brienne, right? Well, not really. When she entered Brienne’s office, Sansa saw a small arrangement of beautiful sunflowers.

“Well look at you,” Sansa said with a smile on her face, the first honest smile she had given all day. If someone deserved to enjoy this made up holiday, it was Brienne, “Got a secret admirer, eh.”

“Oh,” Brienne replied blushing, her eyes darting from Sansa to the flowers in her desk, “Not an admirer… this is Jaime’s idea of a joke, I think.”

Sansa let a sigh out; she knew what Brienne was doing, she knew it perfectly well because she had been doing it all day, only that in the opposite feeling. Brienne was trying to act like it was no big deal that she had gotten something, she was trying to make herself believe that she didn’t care, that the flowers meant nothing.

“Jaime Lannister?”, Sansa asked a little surprised, “Well, joke or not, they are beautiful Brienne, and so are you.” 

“Thanks, Sansa,” Brienne whispered shyly, and for once, she didn’t refuse the compliment.

Sansa couldn’t help but think how strange it was that Jaime Lannister was sending flowers on Valentine’s Day. She hadn’t known the man, but she knew his brother Tyrion well, and from what she had gathered, it was the younger Lannister who was a romantic. Jaime Lannister had always been a self-centered man in Sansa’s eyes, but apparently, Brienne knew him better. She thought of the night of Arya’s name day bar crawl; she had seen Brienne texting someone, smiling at her phone when it lit up and laughing at some texts. She had blurry memories of a hushed conversation with Brienne just before passing out on Ygritte’s couch; she had said something about Jaime being a different man than what the media portrayed. Could it be true? Could it be that Brienne had managed to fall in love with a man who seemed to be the perfect antagonist to her hero? And, more importantly, had Jaime Lannister finally developed feelings for someone outside his family? She was already making plans to find out what was going on between those two when the sight of a young man looking around her office caught her eye. 

“Excuse me?”, Sansa asked a little too forcefully, and when the boy jumped back, she thought that maybe Sandor’s bad habits were rubbing in on her.

“Yeah, sorry, I have a delivery for Sansa Stark… the lady in the front told me just to leave it here, and she’d sign for it.”

“I’m Sansa Stark,” she told the kid and extended her hand to receive the forms.

She signed a scribble that looked nothing like her actual signature and dashed into the office. Everything was in place, and she was thankful that she didn’t have the habit of leaving USB drives or essential information laying around. Only once she was sure that everything was in place did she allow herself to look at the vase near her computer.

_Roses_ , she thought with a smile and walked to them, _twelve red roses_. 

Picking up the card, Sansa smiled at the printed message. 

_This is a stupid made-up holiday, but for some gods forsaken reason, you like it._

_So bring on the overpriced candy and the sappy cards and the roses as long as it makes you smile._

_That’s what boyfriends are supposed to do, right?_

Sandor Clegane could be a jerk, he could be rude, and he cursed a lot, he worked too hard, couldn’t handle small talk, he had scars in his face and body and deep in his heart and soul. But he would never hurt her, and he did want her to be happy, and she knew it, was sure of it, because he had sent her roses for Valentine’s Day, red roses, for that matter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if Sandor comes across a little OOC, I personally think he'd be one for doing some things just for Sansa's sake but let me know what you think.


	12. Every color of the rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is not black and white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this and then this story will be finished, I've loved writing this fic. Thank you to everyone who has sent kudos or left comments.

Sansa had been in love with the idea of love ever since her dad told her that a kiss on a scraped knee could make things better. She had been in love with what movies and books said true love was, a collection of walks in the beach or the snow, running under the rain and kissing under a threshold, grand love declarations and princes willing to fight for their princesses. When she started dating Joffrey, she fancied herself in love, what was not to love about him after all? The blue eyes, blond hair, the last name and trust fund, the expensive gifts. She had been happy with all of that in the beginning but had she loved him? She didn’t think so; he didn’t play the part of the charming prince long enough for her to love him, he showed his true colors early in the game but not early enough.

In the six months she had been dating Sandor, she finally understood why her parents always told her that love was a decision more than a feeling. There had been times in which she was more than tempted to give up on them, times in which she felt she was dating the Hound instead of Sandor, but in the end, she always came to the same conclusion, that being with Sandor Clegane was worth every off time the Hound took over him. Not once in their relationship had Sansa been scared of him, not even when he was the Hound and he got furious, she quickly learned that his anger was never directed at her. With Joffrey, she was always wary of doing something wrong, something that would displease him. When interacting with Ramsay, she had always paid close attention to her actions, not wanting to do something to ‘provoke’ him. With Harry, she had to mind her words, think twice before speaking so that there would be no way for him to misunderstand her intentions or position. With Sandor things were easier, so much easier.

Early in their relationship Sandor had told her, as kindly as he could, that he wasn’t a mind reader, he didn’t get subtle hints and that if she ever wanted something from him, she should go ahead and ask plainly for it. It had shocked her at first that a man would tell her that, she felt he was mediocre, that he didn’t want to put any work into getting to know her, but in the end, his once rough statement had kept them from having a good deal of arguments. She figured out that the kind of intimacy her parents had was the result of knowing one another for decades, that they could almost foresee each other’s thoughts and needs because they had been in it together for so long that after many trial and errors, they had finally figured it out. 

She was happy with their relationship. She saw Sandor for who he was, a rough man with a tender heart and she knew he saw her for who she was as well, not as another pretty girl or the ghost of her mother’s youth or a trust fund and a good last name. No, he had taken the time to get to know her, and he had stayed after seeing her at her lowest. She was happy and then one night, after Sandor kissed her goodnight and she went to bed with a warm feeling of joy in her belly, Sansa realized that somewhere along the way, she had fallen in love with Sandor Clegane. 

She had fallen in love with his moodiness and his rough manners and his colorful vocabulary. She had fallen in love with his warm eyes and half smiles and the smell of clean man and pines that lingered in her clothes whenever he held her or lent her a jacket. That night she tried to figure out when she had fallen in love, had it been when he showed up on a Sunday morning with freshly baked lemon muffins from the bakery she liked so much near his house? Had it been when he sat through dinner with her parents and let her siblings grill him with questions without even complaining? Had it been during one of those many phone calls he endured when she drove home when it was dark and wanted to feel accompanied? Or maybe when he unleashed the Hound that one time at a bar when a drunken man tried to make a pass at her? She knew one thing for sure though; it had not been when the Hound scared the hell out poor Hot Pie when he drunkenly hugged her a little too tight during his name day celebration. She truly didn’t know, and she honestly didn’t care because for the first time in her life she was in love and she knew that this love had the potential to be true and good. 

Loving Sandor Clegane was uncharted territory, both because she lacked experience in the love department and because he, most likely, hadn’t been loved since his mother passed away. Sansa tried to replicate the kind of love her parents had only to find out that as much as it made things work for Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, that magic formula could not be applied to Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane, much less to Sansa Stark and the Hound. She would need to find her own magic formula, and for that, she’d have to do a little research.

Although she would never admit it out loud, Sansa did feel a little bit jealous of Brienne. The image of the two of them chatting amiably in a dark bar on Arya’s bar crawl was something she saw whenever they all hang out together, the way he seemed so at ease with Brienne, how he had been almost smiling right up until she emerged from the dance floor. Sandor had never told her how it was that he and Brienne became friends, he had only said something about the two of them being stubborn and chasing a common goal. While she wouldn’t ask Brienne to betray their friendship, she could ask a question or two of how she managed to make Sandor open up to her. And on a Sunday morning, talking over a short stack of fluffy pancakes and steaming cups of coffee, Sansa Stark found out that the first time Sandor opened up to Brienne was a night in which they got blind drunk.

“I guess that was the catalyst to our friendship, sorry, I know it’s not much help,” Brienne told her as she stirred her coffee.

“It’s okay, really.” Sansa replied, “I had a nice time, we should do this again.”

“Hey, Sansa… do you mind if I ask you for some advice?” Brienne asked shyly

“Is Jaime Lannister still sending you flowers as a ‘jape’?” Sansa asked with a big smile, the subject of Sandor completely forgotten in exchange for something juicier. 

“Worst,” Brienne replied blushing, “I think he has asked me out.”

Second on her list of subjects of research was Arya. Her little sister was the reason why Sandor had been at the bar to begin with, and they had greeted each other so coldly that it was a clear give away of how much Arya cared. Sansa had never asked how they met or why Arya had invited him to the party, but she needed all the information she could gather to throw some light at the puzzle Sandor Clegane was. That same day, Sansa drove to the little flat her sister rented in the outskirts of town and knocked on the door.

“If you’re showing up unannounced this has to be good,” Arya said after opening the door.

After hearing even more vague details about a meeting in a roadside bar and something about a fight with three men over fried chicken, Sansa learned that Sandor Clegane had saved Arya’s life once, even if she didn’t admit to it when it happened. She learned that Arya knew more about the Hound than she did about Sandor, having witnessed some intense violence but being completely chill about it since it was work related. Her little sister cautiously asked her why she was asking if Sandor had done something to hurt or scare her. Sansa decided to open up and let her now that he hadn’t, that he wouldn’t, and that she was asking because she thought she was in love with him and she didn’t know how to be in love, how to prove she loved him. 

“He can be very self-conscious, sometimes I catch him looking at me as if he was waiting for a camera to jump out and tell him it’s all a joke.”, Sansa confessed.

“Well, he is quite hideous looking… and that charming personality of his…”

“He is more than his scars.”

“I know, I know. Look, I would love to tell you how it worked out for Gendry and me, well, sex works out pretty well for Gendry and me.” 

“Arya!” Sansa exclaimed blushing; she didn’t want to know about her little sister’s most likely adventurous sex life. “They both come from rough backgrounds so I figured maybe you could tell me how you made Gendry believe that you loved him, and please, give me the rated G version of it,” she added with a nervous laugh at the end.

“Well, yeah they both have rough pasts, but that’s about where their similarities end. While that Hound of yours barks and bites, Gendry wanted to be loved, and when he saw that I wasn’t going anywhere, he didn’t question me. Clegane might be a rough idiot, but he’ll see you love him, just give him time, he’s like an abused dog, he needs to make his way to you.” 

Sansa honestly hadn’t imagined that Arya could be so insightful but her little sister was right, so she decided to let him figure out that she loved him. The week after she talked to Brienne and Arya and even Ygritte, because if there was someone who knew how to make a grim man smile then it was Ygritte, Sansa decided to take things easy, get comfortable with the idea of loving Sandor and try to understand what it actually meant to be in love with him before acting on her feelings. But the gods had always found their humor in her life and not two weeks after realizing how deep her feelings for him run; things started turning again.

The good days with Sandor were great, but the bad days with Sandor had the force of a natural disaster. Sandor Clegane was a good man with a rough past, and sometimes his old habits got the best of him. That didn’t mean that Sansa loved him any less, but it did mean that she found it harder to love him and the last few days, the last few weeks actually, had been proof of how hard it could be to love a man like him. It started with a cancelled dinner on Wednesday night, the only detail was that he forgot to call her and cancel, Sansa sat at the restaurant for thirty minutes before pulling out her phone and calling him, he sounded stressed out and tired and when he apologized and said he thought he had sent her a text, she took a deep breath and told him it was okay. On Wednesday morning she gave him a quick phone call to check if everything was okay only to have him reply harshly that he was busy and needed his line open for a work emergency. Sansa didn’t hear from him for over a week after they hung up on that Wednesday morning, her texts went unanswered, she didn’t try calling him again not to disturb him or annoy him, or whatever it was she had inadvertently done the last time. She assumed that all their plans had been canceled and tried to convince herself that he was just busy with work, that he had warned her that he was a workaholic and she had already seen that when he had work-related emergencies. Still, it hurt. Being ignored for days hurt, her silent phone hurt, her dinners for one, her glasses of wine, her nights at an empty apartment, it all hurt. Lucky for her, Brienne called in desperate need of help on her second Friday night alone.

“Thank you so much for coming!” Brienne exclaimed, out of breath as she threw her door open and led Sansa to her bedroom.

“Okay, what are we looking at? I didn’t know Jaime was in town.”

“He isn’t! He’s flying in from King’s Landing for dinner!”

Sansa’s heart stopped and shattered at the sound of those words. Jaime Lannister was taking a freaking plane to have dinner with Brienne, who wasn’t even his girlfriend from what she had gathered, and her own boyfriend could find the time to pick up the phone for two minutes and send her a text. Taking a deep breath, Sansa tried to clear her mind, right now she had to worry about Brienne, she’d worry about herself later.

“Well, he’s having dinner with you, so that’s his money’s worth right there. The question is, do you want to knock him dead or just give him a heart attack?” Sansa asked with a smile.

The drive back to her apartment was long and sour, Sansa still couldn’t get over the fact that Sandor had disappeared on her without so much as an explanation, this was so unlike him and yet, she felt like she had been making up excuses to cover for his behavior. She didn’t want to go back to being a rug for men to step on, she would not allow it. Sansa saw a black car pulling into Brienne’s driveway as she drove away, her heart burst with joy for her friend and also filled with anger. That anger died down when she was a few blocks away from her building and rose back up at the sight of a black truck parked in one of the guest spots. Sansa checked her phone and saw no new messages, with her blood boiling, she took her purse and climbed the two flights of stairs to her apartment. There he was, leaning against the wall as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, where were you?”, Sandor asked when he saw her coming down the hall.

Sansa didn’t say a word; she didn’t trust her voice not to break nor her temper to stay in line. Instead, she threw open the door to her apartment and walked in. Sandor followed suit and the second he closed the door; all hell broke lose.

“Where have I been?! Where have I been!? You disappear for ten days, and you dare come here and ask me where I’ve been?!” Sansa looked as Sandor stood in astonishment and before he had the chance to reply, before her anger died down, she continued, “I was helping my friend Brienne get ready for a date! A date with a man who cares enough about her as to fly down to take her out to dinner while my boyfriend can’t even pick up the damned phone to text me that he is alive! So tell me, Sandor, where the hell have you been?”

“Look, I know I should have called…”

Sandor’s calm voice was doing nothing to calm her down, quite the opposite, his calm was angering her even more. How dare he stay so calm? He should have been on his knees begging for her forgiveness; he should have been saying he missed her and he was an idiot and he had treated her badly.

“Yes! You should have! But I guess I’m not as important as I thought I was, as you made me feel I was!” she exclaimed, she knew she was being a bit overdramatic, but logic and feelings didn’t always go hand in hand with Sansa Stark.

“Sansa, stop, you’re being stupid.”

And there it was, Sandor said the one thing that could hurt her more than a thousand weeks of silence, he called her stupid, just like Joffrey had so many times.

“Do not call me stupid! I am not stupid! And if you think I am, if you really think I’m that dumb then you’re just like him!”

“Don’t you compare me to that monster of a boyfriend you had!” Sandor yelled back, his anger finally spurring, “I offered you a way out and what did you do? You stayed with your pretty boy who painted you black and blue!” he was pacing up and down the living room then, his fists clenched to his sides, knuckles white and hands trembling, “I had things I had to deal with, things you’d never understand! Things you wouldn’t want to be involved with, girl!” 

“When will you stop pushing me away!?” Her voice broke, the anger now fading and all the hurt feelings she had started pouring out, “When will you understand that I want to be a part of your life? There’s no on and off switch for how I feel about you. You can't care for me one day and push me away the next. I know life isn’t black or white, I know you have a past, and I don’t care! You, however, seem to think me unable to see past that.”

There was a moment of silence then, Sandor froze at his place, and Sansa prayed to all the gods for him to say something, anything. But a minute went by and then a second one, and he didn’t talk.

“You should go, Sandor.” Sansa said defeated, “Please lock the door on your way out.”

Standing against her closed door, Sansa held to the last ray of hope that Sandor would snap out of whatever was going on in his mind and knock on her bedroom door. She held her breath when she heard footsteps and crumbled down to the floor when she heard the main door being locked and closed.

She got a text from Brienne on Saturday morning saying that her date had been quite pleasant and thanking her for all the help but Sansa wasn’t in the mood for happiness. Instead, she decided to take a long bath and ignore the world. Around lunchtime, Arya started sending her texts, and when Sansa didn’t reply, she started calling. Figuring that Sandor must have talked to her, Sansa turned off her phone; it should have been her who he turned to, not her little sister. Feeling suddenly tired, she decided to take a little nap.

When she opened her eyes, it was dark outside, and her stomach growled loudly, taking her laptop out, Sansa ordered a pizza and changed into fresh pajamas. Not twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door, still a little off, she opened the door without checking and was surprised to see not the pizza man, but Sandor.

“Can I come in?” he asked in a soft voice, the same voice he used when he told her it was time for bed when she fell asleep on him while watching TV, the same soft voice he used when bidding her goodnight before hanging up the phone. Stepping aside, Sansa let him in. “This are for you,” he offered as he pulled something from behind him.

She didn’t take them from him, she simply closed the door and rested her back against it as she looked at Sandor and then at the flowers. There was a red rose; a blue rose, a white rose, a green rose and many other colored roses in that bouquet that looked tiny in his hands.

“What are those?”, she asked biting her lip.

“Roses,” he said, “In every color of the rainbow… You were right, little bird, life is not black and white. Because of you, I see life in every color of the rainbow…”

If her heart had soared at the idea of a man traveling just to have dinner with her, it exploded at such soft words coming from a man as rough and deadly as Sandor Clegane.

“You’re a liar,” she told him, and his eyes grew as an utter look of confusion took over his face, “You once told me you didn’t believe in romance.”

She let her words sink in before taking a step and throwing her arms around his neck, immediately, his two big arms closed around her waist and pulled her to him in an embrace she had longed for and needed. Brienne was lucky to have a man like Jaime who would use every resource he had to take her on a date, but she wouldn’t change Sandor Clegane for anyone in the world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is curious as to what business Sandor had to handle, when I wrote this I though of something related to Gregor, it's the only thing that made sense to me, the only thing that would have Sandor so completely off as to go back to being the Hound and stuff.


	13. A Different Kind of Red Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But this wasn’t just nice, this was different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure and shameless fluff, and it made me happy so I hope it makes you happy too.  
> Once more, thank you for reading.

When Ned invited her to come along for a tour of the most important offices of Direwolf Ltd had in the realm, Sansa knew she was being groomed to one day take over the family company.

“This should have been Robb,” Sansa mumbled as she pulled a few outfits from her closet and laid them carefully on the bed. 

“If you don’t want this life, you just have to tell your dad,” Sandor said as he walked into her room, his big frame blocking almost the entire threshold and Sansa considered briefly pushing him on the bed and leaving packing for later.

“It’s okay,” Sansa said as she walked straight into Sandor’s chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, “I’m kind of excited about this trip, you know? I've never spent so much time alone with my dad, and he’ll be telling me everything about the company and the family history. Oh, and we’re going all over the place: Castle Black, The Twins, The Eyrie, Gulltown, The Iron Islands, Riverrun, King’s Landing, Dragonstone, Storm’s End, somewhere in Dorne and also Old Town. Oh, and daddy says that maybe we’ll go to Pentos.” 

Sandor pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and then stepped back, his eyes going to the piles of clothes on her bed.

“Don’t make that face, there’s a lot of different climates in the trip, and it’s three weeks of traveling, Sandor,” Sansa defender herself, “I’ll pick you up some Dornish red, I know it’s your favorite.”

“You’re my favorite red,” he mumbled as he leaned down and kissed her neck, damn that man and the way his beard felt against her sensitive neck. 

“I’m just sad that I won’t be here for our two year anniversary,” Sansa said as she pushed him back softly, needing him to see that she did care. 

“We can have dinner when you get back or something, just don’t forget about me while you’re away.”

The softness of her voice broke her heart a little, almost two years later, he still thought she’d have second thoughts about them and walk out. If she had wanted to walk out, she would have done it ages ago. No, he wasn’t getting rid of her so easily.

“My dad would probably lock me up in the room before that happens, he absolutely adores you." 

Sansa saw a smile form on Sandor’s lips and knew they would be just fine. When Sandor had first met her family, he had hit it off with her father on the pretense of them being closer in age, that was bullshit, but she let him have it. Over the course of many dinners and family events, Sandor and Ned started bonding. They would share a glass of scotch in Ned’s study when things got too loud, smoke a cigar in the backyard while the girls talked in the kitchen over glasses of wine. But the cusp of their relationship, the moment when Sansa knew that Ned would probably be more heartbroken than her if she and Sandor broke up, was when the two men got wasted together and ended up in a bar fight. She had been so mad at Sandor when she opened the door and found her boyfriend and her father stumbling in the hallway; she had been furious when she had to take care of not one but two gigantic men as they pucked their guts out. It was a fun story now, something that she or mom would bring up to tease the boys, and secretly, Sansa was kind of happy that it had happened.

All her life Sansa had been a daddy’s girl. When she was little, and she had a nightmare, she screamed and her daddy showed up by her side before the air left her lungs. He was there when she learned to ride a bike, ready to kiss her scrapped knees and place Hello Kitty band-aids even if she didn’t really need them. When she learned how to swim, she wouldn’t get in the pool unless her dad was around. In middle school, when a boy told her she was ugly because her hair was red, her daddy stood behind her and dared the boy to repeat himself. Daddy had hated Joffrey from the moment he saw him, said something about the boy being too spoiled but of course, she hadn’t listened. Her daddy had gone and beat up Petyr Baelish not once, but twice. Her daddy had taken one good look and Sandor Clegane and nodded at the man, silently accepting him, Sansa didn’t know what that was about, but she planned on finding out.

* * *

Apparently, traveling for business was very different than traveling for pleasure. Every day they woke up early, had breakfast and then went off to visit sites or meetings. They had a break for lunch, sometimes it was just the two of them, some others they had company, and afterward, it was back to meetings. Sansa couldn’t count the number of places she had been to but seen nothing of, every single meeting room liked the same, and every single airport with its grey speckled walls murdered a part of her soul. After three weeks of traveling by plane, train and even ferries, Sansa was more than ready to go home and sleep in her own bed. Bone tired, Sansa turned to look at her father, his eyes already closed as he tried to get some sleep, and she smiled at him, the memory of last night’s conversation still fresh in her mind.

They had met Stannis Baratheon for a casual dinner; apparently, he and Ned had been friends for a long time after Robert Baratheon introduced them. Sansa had sat quietly while the men talked over dinner, she was beaming as her father spoke so proudly of her, his words so honest that she couldn’t help but blush sometimes. Somewhere in the conversation, they had drifted from their army days to the joys and perils of having daughters. When the ever serious Stannis Baratheon said that his little girl, Shireen, was in that age when all she cared about was boys and that he was more than ready to bring out his old rifle, both Starks couldn't hold their laughter. Things got a little awkward as Stannis asked Ned how he managed to deal with not one but two daughters dating, Ned grew serious for a moment, saying that it was hard to see their little girls get hurt but that in the end, they knew who they were and that they were loved. Ned finished by saying that now that their teenage years were over, he was actually happy with the men his daughters dated, he even went as far as saying he wouldn’t mind if those were the last two boys they ever brought home.

The subject changed once again, and the men went back to talking about guns and cars, but Sansa couldn’t get over the fact that, apparently, Ned would be okay with her marrying Sandor. She had thought about it a couple of times before, but she had thought about it so much as she had during the last three weeks, distance indeed made the heart grow fonder. As they rode the elevator up to their rooms, Sansa couldn't help but wonder, again, how Sandor Clegane ended up winning over her father, he sure couldn't be everything the honorable Ned Stark wanted in a son in law. 

“Daddy?”, Sansa asked as they stopped in front of her door, her father smiled softly at her, probably trying to remember the last time she called him daddy instead of dad, “How come you liked Sandor so quickly?” 

A soft, sad smile appeared on Ned Stark’s face, his eyes soften and he let a soft huff out before speaking, “He called Robb,” Ned said.

She couldn’t get over what her father said, over the fact that apparently, Sandor hadn’t erased her from his mind after she wouldn’t go with him. That night she considered calling him, considered thanking him and telling him how much she loved him but she didn’t, there was a reason why he had never told her his role in her entire rescue and she would wait for him to be ready to share it.

“Everything okay, sweetheart?”, Ned Stark asked as he gently covered her hand with his.

“Yes daddy, just tired,” she said and closed her eyes, a soft smile on her lips to match her father’s.

* * *

She knew he was waiting for her the moment she finished dragging her suitcase up the three flights of stairs. The light coming from under her door was a clear indication that he was there waiting for her and Sansa smiled, it was nice to have someone to come home to. As she entered the apartment, she registered two things, first that her beautiful orchids weren’t dead and second that Sandor was cooking dinner.

Sansa had been dreading coming home and finding her orchids dead, but there they were, blooming and looking healthy, Sandor must have stopped by her place once or twice a week to water them. There was something heartwarming about a man as big as Sandor taking care of her delicate orchids, fascinating, really, that a man who she had heard so many violent stories about, whom she had seen hit someone and knock him out cold, could be so gentle. The image reminded her of them, his gruff exterior and his tender touch. He was tender with her, so tender and careful, he had learned how to treat her right, found a balance on how careful had to be around her. She wasn’t going to break, she had told him so many times, and after months and months of trial and error, he had found a way to make her feel delicate and strong and loved and independent all at the same time. 

Walking into the kitchen with a smile on her face, she saw Sandor leaning over a casserole. Sandor Clegane knew how to cook exactly three dishes, and he cooked them really well, her favorite, what he was cooking that night, was a venison stew. She smiled wider; he must have been cooking for hours.

“Hey handsome,” she said softly as she snaked her arms around his waist in the way she knew he hated.

“Hey gorgeous”, he replied and turned to face her with a smile on his face.

Carefully stepping away from the stove, Sandor wrapped a pair of strong, thick arms around her and pulled her to him. His lips were on her in seconds, first softly and then getting hungrier by the second, Sansa opened her mouth and ran her tongue over his lips, he pulled her closer to him, her body painfully aware of every inch of him in contact with her. Gods, she had missed him, she had missed his kisses and his touch and his smell. She had missed the feeling of his hair between her fingers and the way his beard brushed against her cheeks.

“Gods, I missed you,” Sandor said, his voice raspier than usual, lower, almost a growl and Sansa’s stomach flipped with equal parts love and lust. “Happy late anniversary,” he added as his hands went to her waist and turned her around to face the isle that separated the kitchen from the living room. 

“Oh gods,” the words escaped as a knot tied up in her throat, and her eyes filled up with tears.

She had been getting better at not crying when he did something nice for her, but this wasn’t just nice, this was different. Sitting on the little isle was a vase, a really big vase, that held at least three dozen red roses, still in shock, she went to pick up the card that stood out in the sea of red.

_A few roses for each month we’ve **officially** been together._

_I love you. So much._

_Sandor_

This time the card was written in his particular handwriting, she couldn’t help but smile at the little jab of it being their official anniversary, he had once teased her saying that maybe they should move their anniversary back to her name day so he would only need to get her one gift. Sansa turned around and there he was, a small smile on his lips. Suddenly her nice bottle of Dornish red didn’t seem enough, gods, the world would not be enough for him. She took three hurried steps and jumped into his arms, one of the things she liked the most about him was that he was so tall and strong that she could leap into him and he could catch her easily, and he did, every single time.

“I take it you liked them?”, he asked once her lips left his. 

“Exactly how hungry are you right now?”, Sansa asked and leaned in once more to kiss him. She bit softly on his lower lip before pulling away to look into his eyes; she knew her pupils had darkened, her senses were already going into overdrive. He didn’t say a word; instead, he turned off the stove and carried her to the bedroom. 

Sandor Clegane could be both a tender lover who took his time and a primal man who could make her cry out in ecstasy when he went fast and rough, and that night Sansa enjoyed both sides of him. They were laying in bed, holding each other when Sansa’s tummy rumbled. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she made her way to the bathroom, she showered, and he joined her, she tried to kiss him and see where things led, but he told her that they could go all night once she got some food in her system.

She sat down and he served dinner, from time to time she stole a glance in the direction of the roses, her heart leaping, her smile growing wider.

“They must have cost you a fortune,” Sansa said as she ate her stew, her tone was both concerned and thankful.

“For someone who comes from money, you do seem to know the value of it,” Sandor joked, and Sansa kicked him under the table, “It’s fine, Sansa.”

“Still, you shouldn’t have… It’s too much.”

“Sansa, nothing will ever be too much when it comes to you.”

After dinner, Sansa showed Sandor the bottle of wine she had bought him, and he smiled and went on to talk for half an hour on what a good wine it was, the year, the vintage, everything. He thanked her so profoundly, something slightly uncommon in him, that she didn’t have the heart to tell her that her dad had helped her pick up the wine. They watched TV for a little while, both sated and full, and when the night got too dark, and the streets looked pitch black from the windows, they stood up, locked doors and windows and went to bed. 

He was holding her in his arms in the way she had dreamed so many times, and she was happy, she was so happy that she couldn’t sleep despite how tired she had been when she got off the plane. Sandor was playing with her hair, twirling a strand around his finger and untwirling it a moment later. She could hear his heartbeat, feel the rise and fall of his chest, she could feel the warmth radiating from his body, winter was coming, and it felt so good to have her own personal heater in bed. Since she had started dating Sandor, since he started sleeping over, she had said goodbye to cold feet at night, to waking up when she rolled in bed and landed on a cold spot of her sheets. Sure, it was a little awkward during the summer, not only because of his body warmth but because he liked to sleep with fewer clothes when it was hot, but it wasn’t something that the air conditioning couldn't solve.

“Sandor?” She whispered even when she knew he was wide awake, “How did you know… about the roses.”

He stayed silent for a minute, his brain probably catching up with the whole meaning of the question. She didn’t need to know why he got her roses for their anniversary, she wanted to know how he knew that she loved them in the first place, how he figured out those were the flowers to send all those years ago for her name day. She wanted to know how he knew to send Winter roses and how he knew she loved red roses. 

“You really want to know, huh?” He asked softly, and she nodded against his chest, “A few weeks after we had coffee for the first time you told me that your dad got your mom roses for their anniversary, you had the most ridiculous look in your eyes, as if it was the most romantic thing you had ever seen. Sometime after that, we were driving in front of the glass gardens, and you mentioned Winter roses and how much you loved them but that they were so hard to find… I… I called your dad and asked if he knew where I could buy some.”

“You called my father?!”, Sansa asked as she turned around and rested her chin on his chest, her eyes as big as her smile.

“He gave me the number to some florist up north, said they were expensive. I think that’s when I started a budget for roses.”

“You have a budget for roses?”, she asked again, her eyes shining.

“I have a different budget for each Stark,” he said and completely ignored the question in her eyes “Anyway, I guess you’ll want to know how I figured they had to be red… Well, little bird, I’m not a very smart man, but I pay attention, and you got dreamy eyes whenever we passed red roses, I just put two and two together.”

She didn’t know what to say, and honestly, she didn’t want to say anything. Instead, she climbed up and kissed him softly on the lips. She smiled and pulled back, tucking herself into his side, she pulled up the covers and closed her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered after a while, half asleep. 

“Love you too, pretty bird,” she heard him mumble in his sleep, he only called her pretty bird when he was half asleep.

She loved him, she had loved him for over a year now, she had loved him through good times and hard times, and she wanted to love him through whatever came next. She would have never guessed that Sandor Clegane would be the man her father promised. Would have never guessed that a scarred man who people called the Hound would one day hold her heart, care for it as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Her father had promised her someone brave and gentle and strong, she had wished for all that and also from him to send her roses, red roses, and there he was, and she was happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, the last chapter has been posted. A few things I'd like to say...
> 
> First, I know Sandor seems like a different person in this chapter, I honestly think that two years of being in a relationship might have changed him a little, convinced him that Sansa did care for him and loved him. Deep down, I think he just wants to be loved. 
> 
> Second, this fic is probably one of my favorite things I've written, and I appreciate every single one of you who have left kudos or sent comments, it's been great and I can hardly believe the support this work has had.
> 
> Third, please let me know what you think! As I mentioned in the beginning, this chapter is mostly fluff, at least I think it is, and I'd just love to know your thoughts... Also, I wrote a companion piece, let me know if you'd be interested in learning about that one time Sandor and Ned got drunk together.


End file.
